


We'll be okay

by AbigailKinney4life



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tragedy, Unrelated Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbigailKinney4life/pseuds/AbigailKinney4life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Sam Wesson, two kids who meet in a hospital ward, couldn't be more opposite. But with Dean's lack of hope and Sam's undeserving past, they could be just the thing the other needs the most.<br/>A story of love and loss, showing that guilt can break even the strongest man. And that love and friendship can rebuild him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters, they belong to their respective owners. I also do not own anything I have referenced throughout this story.
> 
> A/N: This story was written from a fanart and AU summary by Levicastiel and Rubyrising on the Wincest Heaven blog, I'd suggest not reading it if you want to avoid spoilers for this story.
> 
> Also, if any of you watch QAF there's a little cameo of one of the main characters in the hospital.

As soon as he heard the click of the door, 6 year old Castiel ran from his Aunt's arms and flung himself at his older brother.

"Woah there, buddy!" Began Dean in shock, sinking to his knees so he was level with his little brother. There was something wrong with Dean's voice, something wrong in the way he smiled. Cas would have never picked up on it though, it would never occur to him that Dean's eyes were red, it would never occur to him that when Dean's mother followed him through the front door; her eyes were red too.

Dean ruffled Cas's jet black hair. "What have you been up to, buddy?" He asked, trying to keep his smile fixed firmly in place. In the car on the way home, he told himself that it would be an easy thing for him to do.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Auntie Jane read me some stories," Cas began, his little nose wrinkled as the memories swam back to him. "But she did it wrong, she didn't do it like you do, with the voices."

"Well-" began Dean, trying to keep his enthusiasm to the level Cas was used to. "Why don't I read to you now?"

Dean's smile dropped, instead of the jovalent smile he expected from Cas's usually so happy face, his brother looked forlorn, concerned even. He reached one hand out to Dean's bicep and just held it there.

"Cas?" Asked Dean, concern overshadowing his turmoil as he stared at his brother, usually able to read him so easily. "What's wrong?"

Cas didn't talk for a moment. "Why did you have to go to see a doctor?" He asked eventually, worry deep in his young eyes.

Dean looked down for a moment, unsure of what to say. As Dean looked up, he breifly caught the red and puffy eye of his mother who was stood behind them.

There was no way Cas could understand, there was no possible way Dean could explain.

"The doctor says I'm going to have to stay in the hospital for a while." Dean decided finally, forcing that smile back onto his face.

"Why?" Asked Cas, face scrunched up in confusion.

"'Cause...err..." Dean faultered for a second, feeling the horrible sinking weight in his stomach again. "'Cause I'm sick, Cas." He admitted, noting how his mother ducked out of the room into the kitchen, he watched his Aunt follow.

"You're sick?" Asked Cas, bringing Dean's attention back to him, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't like being sick. But I'll come visit you everyday," the little boy promised, nodding his head. "I'll bring you soup and read you the stories..."

Dean smiled and cursed himself internally as he felt his eyes well up. Don't fucking cry. He berated himself.

"I'd like that." He admitted, wrapping his strong arms around Castiel's weak body. When Dean felt Cas hug him back all he could do was hold on tighter.

…

As soon as Jane was in the kitchen, she rounded on Mary, seeing how sore her eyes looked and how tired her face was. Jane couldn't begin to understand what she must be going through.

"Well?" She began, "did Dean's tests come back? What did the doctor say?"

Mary rubbed her face with her hands and shook her head slightly, willing herself to get the words out.

"It's a tumour." She said, barely audiable.

Jane blinked a few times. "Wh...what?" She stammered. "No, no, he can't..."

"It's on his spine," Mary pressed on quickly, "the cranial nerve, it's affecting his brain. That's why he was getting so dizzy, why he kept losing his balance all the time." Her voice cracked on the last word and her hands flew to her face again, covering her quivering mouth as she gasped again.

"Will they be able to take it out?" Asked Jane, her voice came out calmer than she had suspected. Lifeless, she supposed.

Mary lowered her hands from her face and took a few short, shallow breaths. "They said they're going to keep him on a hospital ward with some other sick kids, they're gonna run some tests and observe him and see if it's safe enough to operate."

Jane sensed the inevitablility before Mary said anything, before she got the words out her heart went out her nephew.

"...What if they can't take it out?" She asked eventually, finding it hard to make eye contact with Mary.

Mary burst into sudden, unexpected tears. Dry, racking sobs that made her whole body convulse.

Jane pulled her sister to her and wrapped her arms around her. She knew Mary couldn't envision losing Dean. Ever since John had died, Mary wouldn't be able to cope with seeing another member of her family die. She couldn't lose Dean, he had always been her lifeline, Cas's too.

After a few short moments, Mary gently pushed her sister away and made an effort to compose herself.

"How's Dean taking it?"

Mary glanced up at her sister, hated the look of pity in her eyes.

"He's being brave," Mary admitted, fondly. "He's always been brave, he told me that he doesn't want to scare Cas, but..." Mary sighed, "Dean's always been a defeatest, ever since John died."

Mary suddenly looked so old, older than she'd ever looked before. "He doesn't think he's gonna make it out of this." She admitted, a level of despair hidden beneath her resignation.

Jane put her hands on Mary's shoulders and forced her younger sister to look at her. She had always seen so much of Dean in Mary, it was the same pair of green eyes looking at her now.

"Dean's strong," Jane reminded her sister, "you know that, he knows that. He's going to be just fine."

…

Dean stood in the bathroom, facing the mirror.

They'd be going to the hospital soon and Dean had told his mom he was just going to brush his teeth.

He'd tried to convince himself it was the light in the bathroom, but as soon as Dean had put the brush to his mouth a searing headache spread through his brain, more painful than he had ever experienced before.

He dropped the toothbrush on the floor and gripped the sides of the basin tight, willing the waves of pain to subside, trying to ride himself through it.

Dean collapsed to the floor, more out of despair than anything else.

He didn't feel like curling up and crying or locking himself away, but this was it. This was actually it.

As Dean clutched his head he wondered what death would feel like, he hoped it wouldn't be as painful as this.

Part of him also wondered why in the hell he wasn't scared. Sure, he felt like shit that his life was ending and it hurt like hell to know he was leaving Cas behind, but beyond that there was no fear.

He was gonna die, he guessed he deserved it.

Dean rocked himself lightly on the floor as he felt the spasms of pain in his skull get fewer and far between. He breathed quickly as the shocks subsided, the feeling of no pain almost glorious as he sat hunched over on the bathroom floor.

He prayed that is mother wouldn't come barging in without knocking like usual to tell him to hurry up. Or worse, Cas would come wandering in and find him writhing around in pain, it would break his little heart.

Dean shut his eyes in defeated contentment as the pain finally stopped, he sat on the floor and leant against the cool bathtub for a while, just basking in the feeling of nothingness.

He knew the pain was going to get a lot worse, but then he knew the feeling of nothingness was going to get a lot worse, too.

…

Cas was holding Dean's hand as they walked into the hospital ward where Dean would be spending the foreseeable future.

Dean looked around with empty eyes, all feelings of optimism drained away a long time ago.

The ward was clinical on one side, with beds and monitors and all the other stuff you expected in the hospital, but the other side was much different.

It was painted warmly with a TV and a bookcase and games and toys littering the floor. Dean shrugged to himself, this place was more homely than he had first expected. It didn't change anything though.

"Wow!" Cas exclaimed by Dean's side, having apparently caught sight of the play area, "lets go look!"

Cas took off so suddenly and unexpectedly that he caused Dean to stumble forward.

"Castiel!" Their Mother berated suddenly, "be careful with your Brother, he's sick!"

Dean turned his head away immediately, feeling a hot blush seep through his cheeks and simultaneously wondering if his Mother could have said that any louder.

"Sorry, Dean." Cas said, looking a little sheepish.

"No worries, little man." Dean assured him, taking Cas's hand again. "Come on, lets go look at the toys."

The pair walked over to a little section by the corner of the room with a toy box and little chairs, this looked like it was for kids Cas's age, this ward must have got all sorts.

But there only seemed to be one patient here, it was a boy.

Dean assumed he couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen, with longish, semi-shaggy brown hair. He was lanky, but not as tall as Dean and he was wearing a white t-shirt with white pyjama bottoms and a hospital bracelet around his wrist. He was obviously a patient, but Dean really wasn't looking forward to that get-up.

Sat perched on his lap was a little blonde girl around Cas's age, and the boy was reading to her. His voice was soft but full of enthusiasm that made the little girl giggle every few minutes. Dean couldn't help a small smile despite his weariness.

She was cute.

"Hello!" Cas said suddenly, interrupting the pair as he bounded up to them with his 6 year old manners. "I'm Castiel. What are you reading?"

"I'm so sorry," began Dean suddenly, walking to Cas and kneeling down next to him. "Cas, you can't just interrupt people..."

"It's okay, really." Said the boy, causing Dean to look up at him. He looked a little tired, but his eyes were bright and he had a smile on his face. Dean frowned slightly, if he met him on the street he would never have known he was ill.

"Hello, Castiel." The boy continued, talking directly to Cas, enthusiasm in his voice. "What a nice name, my name is Sam, and this is my little sister, Jessica. Say hello, Jess."

Jess waved shyly at Cas, her blonde curls bouncing.

"Jess," began Sam, leaning closer to his sister, "why don't you show Castiel the toy box?"

" 'kay." Began Jess, jumping from Sam's lap, she walked to the toy box and Cas followed.

Sam stood up and faced Dean, little smile still in place.

"Hi, Sam Wesson." He introduced, holding out his hand. Dean caught sight of the hospital bracelet again.

"Err...Dean, Winchester." He said, forcing his hand out and shaking Sam's.

Sam shook his hand warmly, immediately taken with how attractive Dean was. He had strong features and the most beautiful green eyes Sam had ever seen. Although he figured a hospital ward wasn't the best place to hit on someone.

Sam could, however, immediately see how lifeless Dean's eyes seemed to be. He held himself firmly like he was afraid he was going to fall at any moment.

"Are you visiting?" Asked Sam, feeling like it was a bit of a dumb question considering he was the only one on this ward.

"Err...no." Dean admitted, seemingly a little withdrawn. "I'm actually...gonna be bunking here for a while."

Oh, thought Sam. He knew straight away, the only reason Dean would be in this ward was because his illness was fatal or at least near-fatal.

One look at the strong person in front of him told Sam that there was no way Dean wanted to talk about it, so Sam didn't say a word.

Cas and Jess suddenly came wandering back over in animated conversation, breaking the rather awkward conversation. Dean sighed internally in relief.

"This is Dean," Cas was saying, with pride in his voice as he walked over to his big Brother. Dean smiled in Jess's direction and waved at her, she smiled shyly back at him.

"So, it's pretty cool in here, isn't it ,Castiel?" Sam asked, and Cas nodded excitedly.

"Yeah! Dean! There's so much cool stuff we have to play with..."

Dean watched as Sam nodded and smiled at everything Cas said to him. Part of him was glad that Sam seemed to be talking to Cas like he was a person and not just a little kid, but another part of him couldn't fathom how the kid seemed so happy. He was stuck in a hospital ward with God knows what wrong with him but he was still smiling, still making the effort to talk to people and it all seemed genuine. It didn't look anything like the fake enthusiasm Dean saw in the mirror everyday.

Dean turned his head to see the Doctor who had shown them to the ward and his Mother walking over to them. They seemed to be talking to another couple, and a boy around Dean's age with sandy hair eating a lollipop.

"Ah, Dean." The Doctor greeted as they reached them. "I see you've met Sam. Mrs. Winchester, this is my patient, Sam Wesson."

"Nice to meet you." Sam smiled politely. "Dean," began Sam, turning to him. "This is my Mom, Dad and my Brother, Gabriel." He explained, gesturing to the people Dean had seen his Mother talking to.

"Hi." Said Dean awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"I'm glad you're making friends already." The Doctor continued, addressing Dean. Dean didn't mind him, he seemed genuine. "I'll make sure to put you in the bed next to Sam."

Dean suddenly felt like a freaking kid in 5th grade picking which friends to sit next to in class.

"It's no big deal." He said casually to the Doctor, hoping he'd drop it.

"It's okay." Said Sam from behind them, and Dean could hear that damn smile in his voice.

"Excellent," began the Doctor, consulting a clipboard before looking back up to them. "Dean, would you like to come with me so we can get you signed in?"

Dean dutifully followed the Doctor until he suddenly lost his balance and stumbled forward. He caught himself before he fell and immediately felt Cas hugging his leg, asking him if he was okay. Dean felt the embarrassment soar through his cheeks again as he tried to regain his balance.

This had been happening more often lately, at first he'd only been losing his balance occasionally and his lack of co-ordination had been practically non-existent, but now he could barely take two steps without falling over.

It was the tumour, the Doctor had explained that to him when he'd found out he had it. It was effecting his brain, his balance, his co-ordination. Dean had never been particularly graceful but he'd never been clumsy.

After he was diagnosed he practically refused to go outside incase it happened in public and he felt like a total idiot, kind of exactly like he was feeling now.

"Dean," the Doctor said softly, obviously understanding Dean's condition. "Let me help..."

"No!" Began Dean, sounding irate. He gently pulled Cas's hands from his leg and stood straight, trying to hide his burning face from the crowd around him.

The Doctor nodded minutely at Dean and carried on walking, Dean followed without saying a word.

"What's up with him?" Asked Gabriel bluntly as soon as Dean and the Doctor were out of sight.

"Gabe!" Sam scolded in a loud whisper, aware that Dean's Mother and Brother were stood right there. "He's sick!"

"Mommy!" Cas said, tugging on his Mother's arm. Mary looked down at Cas, trying to hide the concern in her eyes.

"Cas, honey?" She questioned.

"I'm worried about Dean," he said, tears brimming in his eyes. "I don't want to go."

His Mother smiled reassuringly down at him. "Honey, Dean is going to be just fine."

"But..." began Cas, "he keeps getting dizzy and falling. What if he hurts himself?"

Sam knelt down so he was at Cas's level, a comforting smile on his young face. "Don't worry, Cas, I'll keep an eye on him. I promise."

After a moment, Cas nodded.

…

Dean's eyes shot open early the next morning to the sound of a hacking, painful cough. Dean rubbed his eyes and turned over in the surprisingly comfortable hospital bed to see Sam, sat up with his hand covering his mouth as he coughed.

Dean sat up tiredly, briefly wondering what time it was, although light was streaming through the open windows.

He rubbed his eyes again, fully aware that he probably looked like shit.

"You all right?" He asked, as Sam gave one last, dry cough before lowering his hand. Dean could see that his eyes had been watering.

Sam smiled weakly up at Dean. "Yeah, I'm good."

Dean frowned slightly in mild confusion, but a Nurse Dean hadn't seen before came over to them before Dean could say anything else.

"Morning, Dean." She said, smiling falsely. "How are you feeling today?"

Dean shrugged. "Fine."

She turned to Sam. "Sam, it's time for your cocktail." She told him.

Sam nodded. "Okay." He answered, before she wandered off again.

Dean's brow furrowed. "Cocktail?" He questioned, "what, you need to get drunk round here?"

Sam laughed, it was a happy sound. It almost made Dean want to laugh too.

"Not that kind of cocktail, It's my medication." Sam explained, eyes shining.

Oh, Dean's head dipped down and he chuckled, embarrassed. "Right, sorry."

Sam shook his head. "You're funny." He admitted.

Dean stared at him for a few moments as the Nurse brought some pills and a glass of water over to his bed. He momentarily considered asking Sam what was wrong with him, but a part of him didn't want to intrude, and another part of him reminded him that they didn't even know each other. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they were both dying.

A wrecking ball of emotion suddenly came crashing down on Dean. He must have forgotten, only for a little bit, why he was here. What was going to happen.

He hung his head for a moment, his feeling of being all right and actually feeling okay deteriorated down into his normal defeat.

Dean lifted the cover off of himself, catching sight of the white get-up he now wore, identical to Sam's, he rolled his eyes at himself.

Dean perched on the end of his bed and watched as Sam downed a considerable number of pills, his eyes shifted and he noticed the heart monitor on the side of Sam's bed, he didn't say anything.

Sam placed the now empty glass down on the night stand next to his bed.

"So," he began, "what does everyone do for fun around here?"

Sam raised an eyebrow to Dean. "Everyone? It's just us, here."

Dean looked around and suddenly noticed that the few other beds in the ward were empty and made. No one was sleeping in them.

Dean made a noise that sounded like a grunt. "I guess everyone else must have been lucky." He said, more to himself than anyone else.

He heard Sam make a noise beside him. "We're lucky." He said quietly, but like he meant it.

Dean hunched his shoulders a little as he looked down. "Yeah, I have a hard time believing that." He admitted, hearing the emptiness in his own voice.

When he looked up he found Sam staring at him. "Why?" He asked.

Dean chuckled humourlessly. "Let's just say I've never been much of an optimist."

Sam pursed his lips but didn't answer, it was a little obvious that Dean had absolutely no hope, but he didn't bring it up.

"So, it's just us, then." He said eventually.

Dean nodded in agreement. He looked to Sam, he supposed he'd have to make conversation with the kid, it looked like they'd be stuck with each other for a while. "My Brother said he'd visit everyday." He said, a little dumbly.

Sam nodded, smile returning to his face like was recalling a fond memory. "I like Cas, he's a good kid."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he is. You seem to have a pretty sweet set up," he continued, "parents, siblings, the whole nine."

Sam ducked his head a little, small grin playing on his lips. Dean frowned a little, it was the same sort of reaction he generally got when he was flirting with a girl he liked.

"I think Jess is a little taken with you." Sam admitted, bringing Dean from his reverie. Dean chuckled a bit.

"She's a sweet kid," he amended, "how old is she?"

"7." Sam answered, "she hates it, though. Being the youngest, Gabe is 19 so he always gave her a rough time of it."

"Same age as me." Dean muttered, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Really?" Asked Sam, "you're 19?" He sounded genuinely shocked. Dean nodded.

"I thought you were older."

"Why? How old are you?" Dean asked.

"17." Sam told him. The kid wasn't that much younger than Dean after all, maybe they had more in common than he'd previously thought.

…

They stayed on the ward for most of the day, Sam had shown Dean all the stuff they had around here to keep them amused. As it transpired, the pair didn't have all that much to talk about.

They'd only known each other for a few hours, but Sam had already deduced that Dean was an enigma. There was something about him that Sam just couldn't figure out. He kept to himself, that was obvious and Sam suspected he might even be a little depressed, and not just because of whatever was wrong with him, either.

But aside from that, Sam quickly learned that Dean was an absolute charmer.

The way he laughed was captivating and if he looked up at Sam through his long eyelashes one more time Sam feared he might actually explode.

Sam couldn't be gaining a crush on a fellow patient, especially on a fatal illness ward, it was something right out of a love novel.

But one of the main things Sam couldn't figure out about Dean was why he was so sad. He didn't know what was wrong with him, he didn't know if he was in any pain. But he seemed to have, given up. Like he'd resigned himself to this hospital ward with no intention of getting out.

Sam knew how boring it got around here but Dean didn't complain once, he didn't seem annoyed or angry or even particularly scared. He just seemed defeated.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Dean said out of nowhere, causing Sam to nearly drop the book he was reading.

"Sure." He said, marking his page and giving Dean his full attention.

Dean looked like he didn't exactly know how to phrase his question. "How is it, you're so happy all the time?" He asked finally.

Sam looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Dean shrugged slightly. "I dunno, I guess, when I thought about coming here I assumed it would be the most depressing place on the planet, full of kids moaning and crying and everything. And you just seem pleased with everything, and you've been here on your own before I came. I just don't get how you haven't been driven insane yet."

Sam laughed. "I guess I just see the bright side to the situation." He admitted.

Dean looked more confused than ever. "How is there a bright side to any of this?" He gestured redundantly to the ward around him.

"Well, you've got to have hope, right?" Sam told him, "it's important."

Dean shook his head, bewildered. "Hope...has never really been my...umm...my..." Dean stopped talking as he heard a loud buzzing come from nowhere.

"Dean?" Asked Sam, looking concerned.

The buzzing was starting to hurt Dean's head. "Jesus, what is that?" He asked, looking around.

"What's what?" Asked Sam, looking around too.

Dean stared at him. "That! That loud noise, can't you hear it?"

Sam shook his head, putting his book down and walking to Dean. His head was really starting to hurt, his forehead scrunched up in pain.

"Nurse!" Sam called immediately.

The Nurse was in the room and Dean was being lead out, obviously the Nurse didn't want Sam to follow but a part of him really wanted to, he wondered what it could be that was wrong with Dean. Whatever it was, it was bad, Sam could tell that much.

…

A few minutes later Dean was sat in the Doctors office, the Nurse had given him some strong painkillers for his headache but she hadn't explained what the hell had happened to him, maybe he was just going crazy.

Dean was sipping water, thankful that the buzzing in his head had finally subsided, when the Doctor entered the room.

He had a kindly smile on his face, normally Dean would have hated him for pitying him but Dean didn't mind. He worked on this ward, so he'd obviously seen a lot of kids die, the fact that he still smiled was commendable.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he sat down, and Dean finally got a chance to look at his name badge properly, yesterday he'd spent so long with his eyes on the ground he hadn't looked properly. Doctor Singer.

"Better," Dean admitted honestly, "my head doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Headaches are a prime part of your condition," Doctor Singer reminded him.

Dean nodded, "yeah, I know. But going crazy isn't, right? That buzzing I heard, it was loud, really loud. But Sam couldn't hear a thing!" Dean shook his head. "He probably thinks I'm insane."

Doctor Singer shook his head. "I very much doubt Sam will judge you, Dean. He's a very sympathetic person."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see that." Dean admitted.

"He will be a good friend to you, I'm sure. But what just happened, that is called Tinnitus."

"Tinnitus?" Dean repeated, rolling the unfamiliar word over his tongue.

Doctor Singer nodded, "it's a constant buzzing or tone that only you can hear. I wasn't sure if it was a part of your particular condition, but apparently it is."

"Wait," began Dean, processing the information. "Constant? Do you mean this could come back and stay back?" He asked incredulously.

Doctor Singer sighed. "In some cases, yes. It's more common than you might think."

Dean hung his head in his hands, Doctor Singer looked over him sadly. Dean was a strong young lad, he could tell that much, and he could see that he loved his little Brother more than anything.

He'd seen it many times over, it was always decent people that got this level of bad luck, and kids too. Like Sam, he was just a kid and didn't deserve what had happened to him, but he was always smiling, always a ray of sunshine. Doctor Singer hoped he would be a good influence on Dean.

"Is this what it's going to be like?" Dean asked finally, looking up. "Things are just gonna get worse and worse until I can't talk or hear or walk, and then I just die?"

"You don't know that, Dean." Doctor Singer reminded him. "There is a chance your tumour will be operable, all we need is a bit of luck."

"Well," began Dean, "judging by the evidence, I don't have much of that."

…

Sam stood up immediately as soon as Dean walked back into the room, Doctor Singer wasn't with him and he had his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Are you all right?" Asked Sam.

Dean shrugged. "Fine."

"What was wrong?" Asked Sam, more concerned about Dean's safety than the fact that Dean didn't want to talk about it.

Dean perched on the end of Sam's bed and looked at him, he didn't look angry or embarrassed, he was just looking.

"Headache, that's all." He assured Sam, "just a bad headache."

"Oh." Began Sam, relieved but also a little confused. It hadn't seemed like a headache. He smiled nonetheless, despite everything, Dean had to admit that the kid had a great smile, cute dimples and all.

"I was worried, I'm glad everything's good."

Dean shook his head and chuckled slightly. "You know, that smile of yours is gonna do my head in, I can just tell."

Sam just smiled even wider.

Dean pushed himself up from the bed, breathing deeply. "Come on, lets go do something, I'm bored out of my face."

Sam raised his eyebrows in confusion. "You wanna do something...with me?"

Dean smiled, actually genuinely smiled and it nearly took Sam's breath away. He had to force himself not to think about kissing those lips, as far as he was aware, Dean was straight. Plus, even if he was, Sam doubted he'd be interested in dating a terminally ill teenager.

"Sammy, it looks like we're stuck with each other so we might as well get used to it." Dean grinned. "But, I have to warn you, I'll have no idea where I'm going."

And with that, Dean walked out of the ward.

Sam followed him, grinning. "Sammy?"

…

It was safe to say that Dean was a little grumpy after coming back from his tests the next day, but Dean assumed that if anyone else had things stuck into their spine they'd be a little pissed themselves.

When Dean got back to the ward, Sam wasn't there. He must have been off having his own tests or something. Dean sat crossed legged on his bed, looking across the room.

He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Sam before he got here. Just sat here all day.

Dean hopped off of his bed and crossed to Sam's, looking over the mussed sheets, he was a messy kid, Dean would give him that.

He looked at the book Sam had been immersed in ever since Dean had got here, his bookmark showed he was about a hundred pages from the end.

Dean dipped his hand down and picked it up.

The last stand by Carver Edlund.

Dean turned the book over and read the blurb, it was some supernatural thing, shrugging to himself, he opened the book, careful not to knock Sam's bookmark, and read the first page.

It took him 10 minutes to read the first two chapters before he unconsciously sank down onto Sam's bed.

By the time Sam got back to the ward, Dean had just finished chapter nine.

Sam smiled as he saw Dean sat there, engrossed in his favourite book.

"It's good, isn't it?"

Dean looked up, so shocked that he dropped the book into the bed.

"Oh, err...sorry." Began Dean, standing up. "I didn't mean too, erm..."

Sam crossed to his night stand and opened the draw, he picked out a bookmark identical to his in everything but colour. He picked the book off of the bed, opened to the page Dean had read to, and placed it in Dean's page.

Dean's eyes wavered for a moment. But Sam knew what he meant.

"What did the Doctors want?" Asked Dean, changing the subject.

"Blood test." Said Sam simply.

Dean nodded and turned back to his bed, and fell straight to the floor.

Sam bolted to Dean immediately and grabbed him as soon as he collided with the floor, hauling him to his feet.

Dean's focus was swimming before his eyes. Sam supported Dean against his body and took his face between his hands.

"Dean! Dean! Look at me...are you okay...!"

Dean pushed Sam away immediately, getting his focus back. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed, surprised at Dean's strength.

Sam moved forward to stop Dean from falling again.

"Dean...!"

"Sam, just stop it!" Dean shouted, and Sam stopped.

The pair were silent for a long moment, just staring at each other.

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Look, Sam...I've got a headache, I'm gonna, get some sleep."

Sam nodded, still staring. "Okay." He said.

Dean turned away and walked back to his bed, settling down under the covers and facing away from Sam. Even though he did have a headache, he knew Sam knew that's not what this was about.

It was a few moments later than Dean heard Sam get into his own bed. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, but the pain in his head only got worse.

It was stupid, it was pathetic, he knew that. It was pathetic that he was just stuck on this ward, waiting to die.


	2. CHAPTER TWO

Sam and Dean had been in the hospital together for a few weeks now, Dean didn't realise how long winded this would be. But he wasn't mad, instead of tearing each other's hair out, he and Sam had grown steadily closer and acted as if they'd known each other for the majority of their lives and not just a few weeks.

Dean didn't understand why he liked Sam so much, generally happy people annoyed him after a while.

It wasn't like they'd had heart to hearts or anything, hell, they hadn't even talked about what was wrong with them yet.

Dean didn't like to think about it, though. This was just life now, stuck in this ward with a stupid outfit with a kid he got on well with, he supposed he was grateful for it.

He and Sam were talking about Sam's home state, Texas, when a little ball of energy came charging into the room and flung itself at Dean.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean exclaimed, struggling to hold the squirming mass in his arms. Cas flung his arms around Dean's neck with such force that he took Dean down with him onto the bed. Dean scowled to himself as he heard Sam laughing.

"Cas, put your Brother down!" Came the voice of Mary as she approached the bed. Dean stood up, holding Cas on his hip. "Wow, man, you get bigger every time I see you!" He exclaimed.

Mary walked over to them, taking Cas into her own arms and kissing Dean on the cheek, he hugged her, trying not to smile too widely.

"How are you, baby?" She asked.

Dean shrugged non-committally. "Fine, I guess. My headaches are getting worse, though." He tried to tone his voice down, not allowing his mother to hear his worry. But she frowned nonetheless and it caused Dean to wince. He hated seeing his mom in this kind of pain, he thanked God that Cas wasn't old enough to fully understand yet.

"Are they giving you enough painkillers?" Mary asked, concern in her voice.

Dean opened his mouth to answer before he heard an all too familiar snort behind him.

"Shut up, you!" He began, sounding mock-angry, turning to glare at Sam but only managing to make him laugh harder.

Mary arched her eyebrow. "What?"

"Dean practically took the whole bottle the other day and was just high!" Sam explained, falling onto his bed in laughter again.

Dean shook his head in bemusement. "They gave me the wrong strength," he explained, "I was just a little...happy."

"Yeah, if you call trying and failing to do handstands and breaking the..."

Dean elbowed Sam gently in the ribs as a grin crept across his Mother's face.

"Well, I'm glad the pair of you are finding ways to keep yourselves amused."

"Mom, put me down, please." Cas whined, and Mary pressed a small kiss to his nose and placed him on the floor. Cas walked to Dean and it was only then that Dean realised he was holding something.

"What you got there, Cas?" Asked Dean, squatting down next to his brother. Cas held the book out to him.

Dean took the book from his little hands. "Do you want Sam to read to you again?"

Cas looked like he was deliberating for a moment. On the one hand, Dean did all the cool voices, but Sam made all the sentences sound exciting.

"Both." Cas finally decided.

"Both?" Asked Sam. "You want me and Dean to read to you?"

Cas nodded, grinning.

Dean turned his head and grinned at Sam.

"All right, buddy." He said to Cas, steering him in the direction of the kids area. "We'll read to you."

Dean sat down on a chair and Cas scrambled up to sit on his lap, Sam grabbed a chair and placed it next to Dean's.

Sam grinned at Dean from over Cas's shoulder and Dean opened Cas's preferred book so that all three of them could see it.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You sure like your pirates, don't you, Cas?" He asked rhetorically but Cas nodded anyway.

"Yeah, pirates are awesome, I'm gonna be one!"

"You'll make a brilliant pirate, Cas." Sam assured him, earning a massive smile from the little boy.

"Okay," began Dean, shifting slightly under Cas's ever-growing weight. "Lets get this show on the road."

Sam shot a hand out to take one end of the book, brushing his fingers against Dean's open palm. Dean didn't move his hand away and Sam blushed, forcing himself not to look up at Dean's face as he held onto the book.

" "Once upon a time", he read, "there lived the greatest pirate in all the land, he was the fiercest, smartest and bravest pirate that ever lived. One day, this pirate said to himself..."

Sam glanced at Dean, silently telling him to take over. Dean leaned closer to his little Brother before speaking. " "Yo ho ho! I want to find the treasure of Princess Linka, but to do that, I need a crew!""

Cas giggled uncontrollably at Dean's pretty passable pirate accent. Sam never saw this level of the enthusiasm in Dean when Cas wasn't around.

"Turn the page!" Cas insisted eagerly, "turn the page!"

Dean shifted one hand to turn the page.

Nothing happened.

"Turn the page!" Cas insisted again.

But Dean didn't, he didn't turn the page. In fact, he didn't move his hands at all.

Sam looked up to see Dean staring down in full horror at his hands.

Dean's hand jerked and the book tumbled from his grip and fell to the floor, his hands were twitching.

Cas let out a noise of disappointment, but Dean's Mother had her hands on his arms.

For a long second, Dean stared up at his Mother, a look of confusion on his face. Before he tore his gaze away and flexed his fingers again and again.

"Dean?" His Mother asked, "baby, are you...?"

"I'm fine." Dean snapped, shrugging his Mother's hands away before standing and walking away.

Cas hugged Sam's side as Sam watched Dean's retreating back, confusion etched into his features.

Sam made eye contact with Dean's Mother, she looked...she looked like simply being sad was a luxury.

Sam ruffled Cas's hair and forced himself to smile at Mary.

"I'll go see if he's okay."

"Thank you, Sam." She said earnestly, taking hold of Cas's hand and turning away.

…

Dean obviously didn't want to talk about it, and Sam had known him long enough to not pursue the subject. He figured that anyone Dean didn't particularly like who rubbed him the wrong way would get a punch on the nose.

Considering Dean seemed to like Sam, he assumed if he pissed him off he'd only get the silent treatment but he didn't want to risk it.

Sam got lonely when Dean didn't talk.

It wasn't until midnight that Sam heard Dean finally lie down, he'd been sat in the corner of the room doing nothing.

Sam knew Dean just zoned out from time to time, to think or relax. But Dean wasn't relaxed, whatever happened to him earlier had put him on edge, Sam had seen the fear in his eyes when he'd looked at his Mother.

Sam had refused to go to sleep until he heard Dean get into bed. When he finally heard the familiar sound of covers rustling he closed his eyes.

"Sam." Came a sudden whisper in the dim light. "Are you still up?"

Sam opened his eyes and shifted to see Dean, sat up crossed legged in his bed, covers pooled around his ankles.

He looked tired.

"Yeah," Sam replied, rather redundantly. "I'm up, is everything okay?"

Dean nodded once, slowly. Only really looking in Sam's general direction and not straight at him.

Sam stared at Dean's eyes, so old in some ways, so tired, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet at the same time, his eyes were so very gentle, like they were made of glass. Almost like if Sam stared at them too long they would shatter.

Sensing he was being watched, Dean's gaze eased itself up to Sam's until their eyes met.

"Dean," Sam began, his voice soft but not scared. "What's wrong with you?"

Dean's gaze didn't waver, it stayed locked on Sam but the edges of his lips twitched slightly, like his body had tried to speak before his mind had let it.

Dean's gaze moved slowly down Sam's face and then back up to his hazel orbs. Sam shivered, he felt like Dean was devouring every last inch of him.

Dean finally spoke after a long time. "I've got a tumour, Sam." He said, he didn't sound mad, or annoyed or angry. But he didn't sound normal either. He sounded, resigned. Honest.

Sam felt his heart fall in his chest as the words left Dean's mouth. He felt all the traces of pity leave him and instead be replaced by dread, and a fear he had never felt before.

He felt tears well in the back of his eyes as Dean continued to speak, he felt a hollow emptiness in his stomach as he involuntarily contemplated a life without Dean Winchester in it.

Or worse still, a life where Dean Winchester had been ruined and destroyed.

"It's at the top of my spine-" Dean was saying, like he'd rehearsed the words a million times. "-touching my brain. It affects everything, my balance, my co-ordination..." He trailed off, his gaze trailing with it.

He sat, silent for a long time. Leaving Sam alone with his mind. He couldn't stop thinking of all the times Dean had fallen, or when he'd lost control of his hands and dropped that damn book and every one of those memories hurt.

Because now he knew that every time Dean stumbled, or couldn't hear properly, it was because he had an alien inside him that was...that was destroying him.

Dean looked up to see silent tears coursing unrelentingly down Sam's cheeks and his eyes softened in pity.

"Sammy," he began, voice thick. "Don't be sad. Please."

Sam began to speak, voice choking on his tears. "Is...is it, how..." he brought his hands to his face and wiped the tears hastily away, hating the way they stung.

"How did it happen?" He asked finally, looking up into Dean's beautiful and yet some how hauntingly sad face.

Dean stared for a moment, taken aback. That was the last question he'd been expecting. Generally, when people found out they asked if it was fatal or if it hurt. He didn't think anyone had asked how it happened. But as he thought about it, it occurred to him that all the sympathy he'd gotten from family and others had been because he was dying.

He wouldn't be interesting without the tumour, therefore no one cared how it had come about, no one wanted to hear stories of Dean when he'd been fit and healthy.

No one, it seemed, except Sam.

Dean coughed slightly, clearing his throat and twisting his fingers around, unsure how to answer.

"Before this all happened," he found himself saying, looking up to see Sam's attention was captivated. "I played football for my local team, err, I guess it was what I wanted to do, or at least it was the only thing I was good at..."

There was something in Dean's voice that made Sam question that. He made a mental note to ask Dean about his life goals before filling it away and listening to his stories.

"Well, anyway-" Dean continued, "I was after the ball, we were going for the win and...I stretched my hands out..." as Dean was saying the words his body was mimicking them, he had his arms stretched out as if he were still trying to catch that ball. Like his body was reliving the memory as well as his mind.

"And...I stumbled." Dean admitted, shrugging, his hands falling to his side again. "I've never been clumsy and I've never once fallen trying to get a catch...but I stumbled, and I fell and I broke my hand."

Sam shifted slightly, looking up. "You broke your hand?" He asked, "but...did it hurt?"

Dean chuckled lightly but there was no humour in his voice. "Yeah, it hurt like a bitch. The guys took me to hospital and they x-rayed me, my Mom was so worried," he was laughing again, "treating me like I was Cas's age, you know."

Dean glanced down, holding his left hand in his right. Sam presumed that must have been the one he had damaged.

But then Dean looked up, and his eyes looked haunted. "Then, when they'd put the cast on me, some Doctor comes in saying they want me back for further tests, saying they have some...concerns." The word sounded bitter on his tongue.

"What happened then?" Asked Sam softly.

"A few days after my arm had healed, they called me and my Mom to the hospital, and there was Doctor Singer," he continued, "he told me he ran a ward for seriously ill children who needed constant care or testing, and he wanted me to be on that ward, because I had a cranial tumour."

Dean hung his head in his hands. "Deep down, I never really got angry, I mean, it was less than I deserved..."

"Dean!" Began Sam immediately, cutting him off. Dean looked up to see pure outrage in his eyes. "You do not deserve this!"

Dean shrugged, looking down again. "Anyway, they wanted to keep me here until they knew whether or not they could operate but, it's not looking too healthy."

Sam didn't speak for a long time, taking in every word Dean had to say, including Dean's almost suicidal nature.

He couldn't think of what to say, he finally settled on an old cliché. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

But the words felt wrong. This wasn't some random ill person, this was Dean. The guy that was rapidly becoming one of the best friends Sam had ever had and had already rapidly become one of his most intense crushes. He felt like he had to say something more meaningful, but for the life of him he couldn't find the words.

"So, yeah." Dean concluded finally. "It's not the best story in the world, but..." He trailed off.

"Do you wanna go back to it?" Sam asked, grabbing Dean's attention once more. "Football, I mean." He clarified, catching sight of Dean's confused expression. "If you get out of here, do you want to play again?"

Dean didn't answer, but he didn't move either. Not a muscle in his face. Sam was momentarily worried, he thought maybe Dean was losing co-ordination again.

"I'm not getting out of here, Sam." He said finally, and there was nothing in his voice.

If Sam didn't know any better, he could swear he could feel his own heart cracking at the emptiness he was hearing. "You can't think like that." He all but whispered.

Dean shook his head, scooting further along his bed so he was closer to Sam. "Doctor Singer made it clear the first time I met him, people who come here come here to die. No bastard told me it would take this long, though."

"We're not going to die." Said Sam immediately, voice still low.

He looked up and their eyes met again. "No, you're right. You probably wont. Sammy, we've been here for ages and you've seen me collapse and trip and all that bullshit, I've never seen you do anything, if I didn't know better, I wouldn't even think there was anything wrong with you."

Sam looked down, staring at his hands and nodded. "Yeah, a lot of people say that." He admitted, it was obvious to him that they were off the topic of Dean's hopelessness and if he tried to wriggle his way back to it he might just get that punch to the face he'd been expecting.

He dipped his head lower. "You don't think I'm a liar, do you?" He asked quietly, no judgement in his voice. He seemed genuinely curious, saddened, even.

Dean's eyes widened. "No! No, of course I don't! That's not what I meant at all."

Sam kept his eyes fixed on his hands.

"Sammy."

He didn't look up.

Sam heard the rustling of covers and heard Dean's footsteps padding the short distance between their beds. He felt Dean's weight sink down next to him.

"Sam, look at me." Dean all but commanded softly but authoritatively.

Sam looked up to see Dean was sat closer than he was expecting. "Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean admitted, voice apologetic. "I don't think you're a liar. I'm an idiot, I don't think before I speak."

"You're not an idiot," Sam countered, "it's just, it's...it's not that."

The same confusion from earlier resurfaced in Dean's eyes. "Then what?" He asked.

"I don't want to tell you," Sam admitted, "I don't want you to know what's wrong with me." It was the bluntest way he could have said it, but he still cringed as he saw the pain flicker across Dean's eyes for only a moment before it was gone.

"Don't you trust me?" Asked Dean, and Sam could hear the way he was trying to keep the confusion out of his voice, but it seeped through anyway.

Sam shook his head, "no, of course I do." He tried to explain, "you've got me wrong. I can't tell you because I won't be able to bear it."

"Sammy, you're really confusing me." Dean admitted, shifting slightly like he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Is something wrong? You're making me think something is really wrong."

"Nothing is wrong..."

"We're friends, you can tell me anything..."

"It's because we're friends that I can't tell you anything!" The words exploded from Sam's mouth and Dean physically recoiled, he'd never heard even the slightest hint of anger from Sam, he'd never seen him like this. Worked up and scared, even.

After a few moments, Sam began to speak again, his words back to normal. "I won't be able to bear you judging me, the way every other person has judged me."

After a few moments of stunned silence, Dean nodded. "Okay," he began, "I understand."

He turned away from Sam, mind working a million miles a minute. "I never knew that..." He dipped his head down.

"Never knew what?" Sam prompted, Dean turned back to him.

"I never knew that I meant so much to you."

Sam felt his cheeks go red and looked away immediately, trying to act as casual as he could. Dean couldn't know, he couldn't find out. It would make everything ten times worse.

Sam instead just shrugged. "We're friends, I take that seriously."

Dean nodded. "Well, so do I."

And with that, he stood and walked back to his own bed.

Sam crashed back onto his own bed, willing his blush to fade away as he heard Dean lay down.

"I'd never judge you, Sammy." Came Dean's voice in the gloom. Sam held his breath as his heart quickened but Dean didn't talk again.

…

Sam had been asleep for a while now but Dean couldn't drift off. He couldn't stop thinking about the things Sam had said, how he'd flat out refused to tell Dean what was wrong.

Why would I possibly judge him? Dean thought to himself.

He tried to go through different scenario's in his head. Reasons why Sam couldn't tell him anything. Asylum seeker, criminal, embarrassment...none of them seemed to fit.

Dean liked to think he knew Sam pretty well now and there was no possible way Dean could see Sam having some terrible secret that would make him hate him.

Not the sweet, happy kid that even lifted Dean's spirits from time to time.

Dean had to admit it to himself if no one else. He felt different when he was around Sam, he didn't feel so shitty all the time.

But back there, during that pretty intense conversation, he'd had the strangest feeling in his gut that he couldn't pinpoint.

Dean shook his head, not wanting to waste any more time thinking about it.

He released a long breath and closed his eyes, finally feeling himself relax into the pillow.

His eyes shot open immediately to the sound of stirring coming from the bed beside him. He listened out carefully as he heard Sam, tossing and turning and mumbling. He wasn't awake, but then he never mumbled in his sleep either.

Dean closed his eyes again, but after a few moments, the stirring became more persistent, louder.

Dean could hear the distress in Sam's voice and turned, he walked over to the kid's bed to see him in the middle of an obvious nightmare. Dean frowned to himself, Sammy never had nightmares.

Dean put an arm on Sam's sweat-coated shoulder and shook him gently. "Sammy," he whispered, not particularly sure why considering they were the only people there. "Sammy," he shook him a little harder. "Sammy, wake up!"

Sam jerked awake, hand flying to Dean's which was still clutching his shoulder. As Sam hovered in the place between consciousness for a few moments, gasping in shock, Dean stared at their hands clasped together, he couldn't pull away. Sam was holding his hand tightly, obviously he was scared stiff.

But his hand was...warm.

"Gary...please..." Dean stared at Sam's face, scrunched up in pain. His eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

The hand was removed and Dean's head cleared. He looked up to see Sam staring at him, sweat clinging to his face.

"Are you okay?" Asked Dean.

Sam didn't speak for a minute as he got his breath back.

"Oh," he looked around the room for a minute.

"Sammy, who's Gary?"

Sam looked down, pointedly away from Dean's eyes.

"Sammy..."

Dean recoiled when Sam looked up, he had silent tears streaming down his face.

"Sammy..." Dean stuck out a hand out of habit more than anything else, before he realised this was Sam and not some chick he was sweet talking or his Mom.

Dean's hand hung uselessly in the air for a moment, the pair of them just staring at it, before Dean let it drop to his side.

This seemed to distract Sam slightly, his tears were becoming less frequent.

"Gary was..." Sam sighed, again reverting his gaze from Dean. Dean didn't think he could look at him.

"He was my boyfriend," fresh tears streamed from his eyes, Dean suddenly realised he wanted to reach out and wipe them away, stop Sam from crying no matter what.

"When I was 15," Sam continued, staring directly at the floor. "He...used me. He...forced me."

Dean felt every other problem he had in his life dissolve for a split second as the gravity of the situation really weighed down on him.

"I'm gonna kill him." Dean said quietly, it didn't even occur to him that Sam would hear.

Dean was brought out his infuriated reverie when he heard a humourless chuckle come from Sam.

"You can't," he said, looking up. His voice sounded heavy. "He's dead."

Dean tried his best not to feel satisfied, but it was truly hard. He wanted to gut whatever fucked up human had put that sort of hell on Sammy.

"What happened?" Asked Dean.

Sam's lips twitched up into a crooked, humourless smile. "He died of H.I.V."

It took a few moments for the cogs to turn in Dean's brain and add everything up.

"You...?" He asked quietly. "You have...?"

Sam nodded. "I'm positive, Dean. They put me in here when I got the flu and got really sick."

Dean's head dropped into his hands and he'd never felt like more of a douche bag. Feeling sorry for himself all day when he had a chance, if only small, the slightest chance.

Sam had nothing. Sam had...Dean couldn't think about it, it was making him feel sick to the stomach.

He could feel Sam's damn calm and accepting eyes boring into his skull and after a while he couldn't take it any more. He couldn't stand the fact that despite everything he'd ever done he'd been allowed the slightest of chances, and Sam, who was probably the greatest person Dean would ever meet, wasn't allowed that.

Dean found himself thinking that if there really was a God, he was a sadistic fuck.

But Dean also found himself thinking that, despite the fact he'd been thinking the same thing constantly these past few weeks, it was in this moment alone that he really wanted to die.

He finally looked up to Sam, still calm and controlled. He didn't understand.

"With a story like that-" Dean began, "how the hell can you be so happy all the time?"

Sam's smile was small but genuine. "'Cause I have hope. I never lost it."

Before Dean realised what he was doing, he had his arms around Sam and had enveloped him into a warm embrace.

Sam smiled contently, feeling safe in Dean's strong arms.

There was that strange feeling in Dean's stomach he couldn't pinpoint, and then he was retracting his arms almost awkwardly.

"You don't though, do you?" Said Sam suddenly.

"Huh?" Asked Dean, "Don't what?"

"Hope." Sam clarified, "it's like you've given up hope."

Dean ducked his head down for a moment, he couldn't take the sadness in Sam's eyes as he said it, he couldn't stand the pity.

"Yeah well," he began, trying in vain to lighten the situation. "I guess I don't, I never have."

"You should," said Sam, and something in his voice made Dean look up again, Sam's eyes were shining.

"We'll be okay."

...

It was two days later that Dean began to realise that the more time he spent with Sam, the more optimistic he seemed to become.

Things Sam had said to him the other night seemed to make more sense. It wasn't like Dean was suddenly a changed, hopeful man. But he was starting to see that Sam was right, he didn't have any hope, he had nothing.

He wanted to change it, but he didn't think he could.

He'd also been looking at Sam differently, not like he judged him for what had happened to him, God no. But Dean had a renewed sort of respect for the kid, the fact that he kept smiling every day despite everything, the fact that he was only a teenager and he was already a better man than Dean would ever be.

It was a hot day so the pair had decided to sit outside on the grass. There were other people around, Dean pretended not to notice the people staring at him and Sam in their clinical white like they might infect the air. But as usual, Sam didn't seem to care, so Dean felt silly bringing it up. He was a lot older than the kid for Christ's sakes, he shouldn't care what random people thought of him.

Dean watched as Sam was lightly picking the daisies off of the ground and throwing them to one side with an arched eyebrow.

"Please don't tell me you're planning on making me some daisy chain." As the words came out of his mouth, he realised that was exactly the sort of thing Cas would do. He rolled his eyes at himself and Sam giggled.

Dean thought about it for a moment, no, it was definitely a giggle.

"I think you could make it work." Sam answered, and it was the earnestness in his voice that made Dean laugh.

Sam loved Dean's laugh, it was warming. It was safe to say that Dean still confused Sam, for a guy that looked at death as a good plan how in the hell could he make Sam feel so happy?

Instead of saying what he wanted to, he instead flicked one of his picked daisies at Dean and hit him squarely in the temple.

Dean mock-glared at him and Sam burst into a fit of laughter, Dean opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a woman who'd walked past them.

"May God be with your poor souls." She said, with a withering look in her eyes, Dean and Sam kept a straight face until she'd left before they both collapsed into laughter, hoping she didn't turn back and see them.

After a few moments, the laughter died down and the pair lapsed into silence.

Sam tried to build himself up and ask Dean the question he'd been meaning to ask him for days.

"So, Dean," he finally began, wishing for the first time that Dean's look wasn't so damn intense. "When I told you about Gary..."

Sam stopped talking as he saw Dean's fist clench. Dean flexed his fingers.

"Sorry," he said, "err, carry on."

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, he tried to stop the satisfaction seep onto his face. The satisfaction that the mere mention of Gary sent Dean into a fit of rage, the satisfaction at the way Dean made Sam feel like he was the most important person in the world. He looked down and picked up some of the daisies he'd picked. He used his nail to make a hole in one of them and threaded the stem of another through it. Dean watched in silence as Sam began to make a daisy chain, he wasn't sure if he was going to carry on talking.

"Well," he eventually continued, not looking up at Dean. "When I told you about...it, you didn't say anything."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I said..."

Sam interrupted him. "I don't mean that, I mean, when I said I had a boyfriend, you didn't say anything about me being...gay."

Sam looked up to see Dean staring incredulously at him. "I think there were slightly more pressing things than that." He said.

Sam chuckled a little, going back to his chain. "Yeah well, I was worried you might think..."

"Wait, Sammy, let me just stop you," Dean began, grabbing his attention again. "Look, I didn't give it any thought because it doesn't need any, right? I wouldn't care if you were attracted to Octopus's or something, I like you 'cause I like you and I wont treat you weirdly."

Sam tried to stop the beaming smile that was threatening to escape come onto his face.

"You really don't mind?"

Dean shook his head, reassuring smile on his face. "No, I mean, I'd hate it if you judged me because I'm straight."

Sam didn't answer for a minute, feeling his heart slowly fall. Dean was straight, he'd never feel the way for Sam the way Sam felt about him.

After a few moments, Dean picked up on Sam's silence.

"Sammy, you all right?"

Sam merely smiled, an obviously fake smile, before he reached out and pulled Dean's wrist towards him. Dean looked at their hands, again feeling the warmth at their contact.

He watched as Sam slipped the now finished daisy chain onto his wrist before pulling away and going back to fiddling with the grass.

Dean looked at Sam, then back down to the delicate chain on his wrist, and the lingering warmth where Sam had touched him.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

…

When Mary and Cas came to visit later that day, Dean was still wearing the daisy chain, it hadn't occurred to him to take it off yet.

"Hey, sweetheart." Mary greeted, making a pointed effort to ignore Dean completely and envelope Sam in a massive bear hug.

Dean frowned jokingly and felt Cas hugging his leg, Dean bent down and picked his Brother up, balancing him on his hip.

"I still love you." Cas assured him, Dean smiled hugely and hugged Cas closer. Sam and Mary broke apart laughing, before Mary punched Dean lightly on the arm.

"I guess I kinda care about you, too."

Dean arched his eyebrow. "You're in a good mood." He observed, whilst his Mother shrugged. She was joking around, she hadn't done that since Dean had been diagnosed.

"We were talking to Doctor Singer," she informed them, before turning to Sam. "Your family will be along in a minute and then we're taking you out."

"Really?" Asked Sam, "that sounds great!" He smiled happily and then looked at Dean who shrugged back at him.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Surprise," Mary answered, "I want to get you out of this hospital."

Dean looked down as he felt Cas's hand on his arm to see him fiddling with the daisy chain. "Pretty." He observed.

"Oh," Dean blushed, looking at Sam. But Sam looked away before Dean could catch his eye.

"How are you two feeling?" Mary asked, unaware of the awkward exchange.

"Okay." Sam said, "everything's fine. Dean's headaches having been getting worse, though."

Dean was stuck between blushing and confusion at Sam talking for him, like they were an old married couple.

Mary started talking to Dean about his headaches, worry in her voice again and Cas jumped down from Dean and ran to Sam, excitedly telling him about some new game he had but all Dean was seeing was Sam.

It occurred to him that they were practically a married couple now.

As Dean watched Sam talking with Cas, he realised he was seeing him differently, he was seeing Sam as a part of his life now. A genuine, massive part of his life and Dean didn't want him to leave it.

"Dean, are you okay?" Asked Mary, "you look a little distracted."

Sam looked up to him and Dean suddenly noticed his brown eyes, so different from his Mom's green ones and Cas's blues ones, just like their Dad. But Dean didn't need to think about his Dad right now.

Dean forced himself to look down at his Mother. "I'm fine." He said, "I just..." he struggled to think of a viable excuse.

"I needed the bathroom."

"Oh, okay." Although there was something in Mary's voice that suggested she knew he was lying, he didn't even bother looking at Sam as he crossed out of the ward and walked to the bathroom.

The bathroom was empty so instead of ducking into a cubicle he leaned against one of the sinks.

He rubbed his face with his hands.

Do I have feelings for Sam?

The obvious answer was no, he couldn't. But there was something niggling in the back of his mind screaming yes.

Dean didn't understand, he was straight, he'd only ever liked girls. But when he looked at Sam, he could feel something he couldn't put his finger on, which meant it was different from when he was with a girl. But now he thought about it, he'd never really had feelings for any girl that ever been beyond sexual interest.

The way he felt about Sam was...God, he was going crazy.

Dean turned on the cold tap and splashed the freezing water across his face.

The way he felt about Sam was maybe someone he didn't just want to bed...Oh God, was he hearing himself?

Want to bed Sammy? He was a kid, who was sick, who was his friend. Jesus.

Dean stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, taking a long hard look.

This wouldn't go any further, besides, he'd be checking out soon anyways so it couldn't.

Checking out and leaving Sam on his own...

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Dean exclaimed out loud, louder than he should have.

If he didn't have a slowly developing, Dean-destroying tumour he would have punched himself.

He quickly walked out of the bathroom before he could argue with himself any more.

…

"So, the big plan was to take one guy with a tumour and another guy who is H.I.V positive out hiking?" Dean whispered to Sam, who elbowed him lightly.

Despite everything, however, Dean felt so much better for being back in his own clothes. His torn jeans felt amazing.

Sam couldn't keep his eyes off of Dean, if Sam thought he was beautiful in their clinical white outfit, it was nothing compared to how he looked normally.

Tight t-shirt, torn jeans and the wind was mussing his hair. God, he looked sexy. But it only succeeded to make him feel worse. Dean was straight, there was no random hope that they could ever become anything more than what they were.

Sam tried not to let himself dwell on it though, he had Dean's friendship. That was a lot more than he could ask for.

"I think they just want to get us as far away from the hospital as possible." Sam reasoned, avoiding a tree root.

"The hospital is all right." Dean grumbled, and Sam laughed. A happy, unhindered laugh that made Dean smile.

"You really hate the outdoors, don't you?" He asked, still laughing.

Dean shrugged, looking ahead again, the last thing he needed was to trip up and fall on his face. "It's okay, it's just never really been my thing."

Sam scrutinized Dean. "So, what is your thing?" He asked, "all the time we've known each other and you've never really talked about yourself, what sort of stuff do you like?"

Dean shrugged again, not expecting the question. Again, no one really cared enough to want to know these sort of things.

"I'm kind of boring," he admitted, "I don't really do much." He saw Sam roll his eyes. "But I don't though," he defended, "I mean, I like horror films and spending time with Cas and playing football, but that's about it. Plus, I don't even do any of that anymore. But..."

"But?" Sam prompted.

Dean turned to him. "I spend time with you now, and I like that."

Sam smiled slightly and Dean smiled back but then he was tumbling to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam called out, sounding shocked.

Dean grumbled as he ate dirt. "Jesus."

Sam was by his side immediately, lifting his shoulder and dragging Dean to his feet, trying to be gentle at the same time.

"Sammy!" Began Dean, falling back onto his knees. Sam knelt next to him, concerned. "Don't worry, I'm all right."

Sam threw his arms around Dean's shoulders and clung onto him, "you scared me."

Dean laughed a little, trying not to sound as comfortable as he felt. "We're in a forest and I have no co-ordination, I'm gonna fall on my face a few times."

Sam let him go, giggling a little bit before he stood and held a hand out to Dean. Normally, Dean would have batted it away but he dutifully excepted the help and allowed Sam to haul him to his feet.

Dean was impressed, not only was Sam sick but Dean also had a good 14 pounds on him, the kid was strong.

"You two all right?" Came a sudden voice, it seemed Gabriel had doubled back for them. He saw the pair holding hands and he smirked. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Sam dropped Dean's hand immediately, cheeks rosy. "No, sorry. We just...we're coming."

"Okay." Said Gabriel, looking more than a little perplexed at his Brother's behaviour before turning back and walking to catch up with everyone else.

Sam and Dean turned away from each other and continued walking.

"So, I guess it's cool being away for a little bit." Said Sam after a while.

"Yeah. Sometimes that ward feels like a prison."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "it did."

Did. Dean reflected to himself, hoping that didn't mean what he thought it meant.

He looked at Sam, trying to pinpoint his exact emotions. He supposed the kid was attractive, in a guy way. He had nice hair and big eyes and...Dean shook his head to himself, looking away.

Sam saw this and turned to him. "What?" He asked, grinning.

Dean turned back, saw Sam smiling and realised that was it. His smile, the way his eyes lit up. Sam had a happiness and an optimism that made him almost glow.

"Nothing." Said Dean, quickly turning away again.

Shortly after that, the pair caught up with the rest of the group. Cas wriggled out of his Mother's arms and ran to Sam, Jess followed him, shyly smiling up at Dean.

Dean presented the little girl with one of his most dazzlingly smiles and she turned away, embarrassed, and ran back to her Mother.

"You shouldn't do that," Sam berated from beside him.

"I was just smiling at her." Dean defended.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I don't think you know what your smiles do to people."

Dean grinned to himself, eyes hitting the floor again. A few minutes later, Cas ran to him and, distracted, Dean stumbled forward.

Sam watched as Dean lost his balance again, though he caught himself before he fell, Sam could still see the burning embarrassment on his face. He forced himself not to say anything.

"So, Dean," Sam's Mom chipped in after a while, Dean was pretty sure she was called Ellen. "How old are you?"

"19." Dean answered, whilst Sam made an embarrassed face at his Mom.

"What?" She asked defensively, "I was curious. Dean, I thought you were in your twenties."

Dean laughed embarrassed before his own Mother cut in. "Dean's always looked older than he actually is, he gets it from his Father."

"Are you and Dean's Father separated?" Asked Ellen, the utmost sincerity in her voice.

"Err, no." Mary answered, trying to keep the awkwardness out of her voice but Dean could hear right through it.

He kept his eyes on the ground, away from Sam.

"Actually, My husband passed away six years ago." Mary admitted.

Gabriel's eyes hit the floor, Sam's Dad, who Dean was pretty sure was called Michael, looked away. Ellen looked saddened and more than a little embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

No one said anything.

"So, he must have passed away when Cas was..."

"Before he was born." Said Mary.

Everyone lapsed into silence. Sam was staring at Dean but he refused to look back at him, the last thing he needed was that.

Everyone continued walking but Dean hung back, falling behind everyone else. Sam glanced worryingly back, Dean had never talked about his Father before, Sam assumed they just didn't get along, he never thought he was dead.

Dean's lack of faith in Humanity seemed to suddenly make more sense.

"So." Began Sam, falling into step with Dean. "You never said about your Dad."

Dean shrugged, "there isn't much to say. Mom was pregnant, I was just a kid. He died."

Sam tried for a reassuring smile but nothing came. "So, I guess that mean's that Cas..."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he never had a Dad. He had me, I know that's not much."

Sam shook his head. "You know what, one of these days, I will punch you."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "Punch me?" He asked, perplexed. "Why?"

"Because," Sam continued, "Cas is a great kid, and he loves you. You did well."

Sam could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on Dean's lips.

"So, what about you?" Asked Dean suddenly.

"What about me what?" Asked Sam.

"When you get out, what are you gonna do?" Sam looked over Dean, he seemed so earnest it almost made Sam laugh.

"I'm going to go back to school, I'm gonna..." Sam lost track of what he was saying, feeling a sharp pain in his stomach. He stopped walking for a moment, willing the pain to go away, but it just kept getting stronger. Sam stumbled forward, clutching his side. He felt like his lungs were shrivelling inside him and all the breath he had was being sucked out of his body.

Sam's vision began to cloud over and the ground beneath him swam.

"Dean!" Sam called out blindly, fear in his voice. He could hear noises, but he couldn't make out what they were. Silhouettes swam into focus for a split second before darkness caved in on Sam and the last thing he felt was himself falling.

…

Dean watched in horror as Sam passed out in his arms. He called out for anyone, anyone to come running back and figure out what was wrong.

He gently shook Sam, but the kid wasn't moving. "Sammy," he whispered, "Oh, God, please, Sammy..."

Sam's father was the first one to reach him, he was saying something, something loud and desperate but Dean couldn't hear him. All he could hear was his own pulse inside his head. Michael took Sam from Dean and Dean stood there, feeling empty and alone as Sam's father checked for a pulse, desperation on his face.

"He's only passed out..." Dean tried to say, but his voice was drowned out by a combination of every one else in the party finding Sam and a headache bordering on migraine that had decided to develop in Dean's temple.

He fought off the pain as he walked towards his Mother. "Mom, call an ambulance." He said, feeling Cas clinging onto his leg.

"Already done." Came Gabriel's voice from far away.

Dean knelt down next to his little Brother, the pain got worse when he got lower to the ground. "It's all right, Cas. Sam is gonna be okay."

Cas hugged Dean and Dean hugged him back, more for himself, until the ambulance came.

Dean heard the sirens in the distance and gently let go of Cas. He tried to answer the confusion in Cas's eyes.

"Cas, buddy. I need to go with Sammy in the ambulance, okay?"

Cas nodded at Dean, Dean patted him on the arm and stood up, the pain in his head subsided a little bit.

Dean watched as the paramedics swarmed all around them, pushing Michael gently out of the way as they put Sam onto the stretcher, feeling like he was going to vomit.

Dean followed numbly, like a robot, as they wheeled the stretcher to the ambulance that they had parked at the edge of the wood.

"I'm gonna go with him." Dean said to the paramedics, not thinking straight.

"No, I'm going to go with him!" Ellen interrupted, deep-set pain clear on her face. Dean opened his mouth to protest, not thinking about anything but the kid in the stretcher that needed him, before Gabriel interrupted the pair of them.

"Mom, Dean's right," he said, "he should go. Sam's going to want him to be with him when he wakes up."

Ellen looked like she was going to argue, but she didn't say anything. Dean didn't care about the implications of that sentence. He looked gratefully at Gabriel who nodded back to him, if Dean wasn't in such a state of worry with a skull-splitting headache to deal with, he'd realise that Gabriel was a pretty awesome Brother. He followed the stretcher and hauled himself into the back of the ambulance next to Sammy.

The ambulance was uncomfortable, he'd had the luxury of never actually having to ride in one himself, but he quickly realised it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat. He perched himself as close to Sam's stretcher as possible, looking at his empty face actually hurt but he forced himself. He looked at Sam's face, looking peaceful in his unconscious state. Dean let his face fall into his hands.

"Sammy, this is stupid, if we'd never come here this wouldn't have happened...please be okay. Please be okay."

It never occurred to him how profoundly effected he was at Sam being like this, about how much he cared.

…

Dean was, once again, sat in his bed in the hospital ward. He hadn't bothered to change out of his jeans yet, he hadn't done much.

When they'd got to the hospital they'd taken Sam away from him and Doctor Singer had taken Dean back to the ward. He told Dean that Sam would be okay.

Dean had just shrugged and went straight to his bed, he was emotionally exhausted and logic dictated there was nothing more he could do for Sam, despite the fact he had an insane urge to stay with Sam the whole night, the Doctor's wouldn't let him. The ward was different when Sam wasn't there. It was cold.

Dean remembered Sam's reaction to him saying it felt like a prison.

It did.

Dean looked around at the clinical, headache-inducing whiteness.

It does.

Dean stood slowly, making sure no Nurse or someone was going to wander in. He undid his belt buckle and slipped his jeans off, kicking them under his bed. He suddenly felt more at home, it was sad.

Dean climbed under the covers in only his boxers, shivering slightly at the cold contact of the covers against his bare legs.

He tried to lie back, letting his head hit the pillow, suddenly it didn't seem so comfortable anymore.

He tossed and turned for hours but he couldn't fall asleep, it was well past midnight when Dean checked his watch and Sam still wasn't back in the ward, he wouldn't get to sleep until he knew Sam was okay.

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling over-heated, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and intended to fling it to the floor, but it made contact with his night stand and knocked off a book, it thumped as it hit the floor.

Dean sighed loudly and got out of the bed, leaning down to pick the book off the floor, he noticed the slightly squashed daisy chain Sam had made him earlier by the side of the book. It must have fallen underneath.

He wanted to shake his head and laugh at how stupid it was, a pansy little daisy chain, but for some uncharacteristic reason, he just couldn't.

Dean knew he'd never been one for words, but as he sat back on the bed, looking at the daisy chain, still alive and fresh, he realised it was like some bizarre metaphor for Sam.

Something fresh and alive that would slowly wilt.

The idea made Dean feel almost physically sick and he hated himself for thinking it.

He wouldn't be able to handle it, he physically wouldn't be able to handle Sam dying, but he'd never expected it to effect him as badly as it did.

Dean rubbed his face with his hands, eyes sore. He'd told himself from the start it was only a matter of time before one of them went down, but it should have been him. Sam was always gonna be the one who was gonna get through this.

"I'm such a fucking mess." Dean said to himself, irritation and exhaustion in his voice. The fact that he was talking to himself practically naked in a dark, empty hospital ward only proved this.

Dean had no idea what he was supposed to do without Sam, without his friend and his guide. Without the one thing that actually got him through the day and not lie there and be defeated all the time.

He sat on the edge of his bed, cold and alone, feeling more useless than he'd ever felt, feeling just like he'd felt when his Dad had died. He needed Sam more than he'd ever needed anyone and he'd only just realised it, and now it could be too late.

Dean allowed himself to fall back against the bed, feeling helpless tears sliding down his face. Dean closed his eyes in pain as he realised something he should have realised a long time ago.

He was in love with Sam.


	3. CHAPTER THREE

The next morning came and Sam still hadn't returned to the ward, Dean had made sure he was up at the crack of dawn because he didn't want Sam to be alone when he came back, but he hadn't.

Dean was just sat alone on his bed with nothing but the slow trickle of Nurses and Doctors coming in and out of the ward.

He vaguely picked up his book from the night stand and began thumbing through the pages but none of the sentences were sticking. He sighed to himself and threw the book back, flopping back onto the bed loudly in annoyance and boredom.

"Hey there, Dean."

Dean sat up to the familiar voice, he always wanted to be on form for Doctor Singer.

"Doctor Singer," he greeted, "hey."

"How are you doing today, Dean?" He asked.

Dean shrugged. "Usual, I guess."

Doctor Singer peered up from his clipboard. "No headaches today?"

Dean shook his head, Doctor Singer could see immediately how distant and out of focus he was, but he knew Dean wasn't in pain, not in physical pain anyway.

"We've got news back from Sam." He said slowly.

Dean's ears pricked up and he looked sharply at the Doctor. "Yeah? Is he okay?"

"Look, this is confidential information," Doctor Singer explained, "I shouldn't even be telling you this, but, I can see how worried you are...Sam is sick, and we still aren't sure what exactly happened to him yesterday. But, he is recovering and he'll be back later today."

Dean closed his eyes in pure relief as he let the information sink in, Sam was going to be okay.

"So," Dean began a few moments later, "no one knows what happened to him, how can you not know? You're Doctors."

"Dean, with Sam's..." Doctor Singer wavered for a minute, "condition, he is extremely susceptible to certain things you or I wouldn't bat an eyelid too."

Dean chewed his lip for a moment, he didn't know all that much about H.I.V, except it was incurable, and Sam always seemed so fit and well all the time Dean sometimes forgot he was sick, and that he could get even sicker any moment.

"I should have looked out for him." Dean said quietly, momentarily forgetting Doctor Singer was right beside him.

"This isn't your fault, Dean." He said, causing Dean to look up in shock as he realised he wasn't alone. "You can't blame yourself, for one thing you'll drive yourself mad, and for another, Sam's gonna need you to be strong for him when he gets back."

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly, hating the truth in his words.

"If you want my advice," Doctor Singer continued, "just take a day off, forget about everything and just relax. It'll keep you calm."

Dean nodded, more for Doctor Singer's benefit than anything else. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Doctor Singer."

Doctor Singer nodded at Dean, smiled and walked out of the ward.

Dean breathed out a long, aggravated sigh when he was finally alone, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and disinterestedly paced around the ward for a while, trying to get his thoughts in order.

As Dean by-passed the television, he half-heartedly picked up the remote and began flicking through the channels, but as usual, nothing was on. Dean used to be so interested in TV, but since he'd been in the hospital ward the interest had somehow faded. Nowadays he was much more inclined to read a book or stay up later than he should do talking to Sam...

He growled to himself as all thoughts of Sam came racing back to him, he didn't know what Doctor Singer was talking about, he couldn't escape this for a second.

"You all right, Dean?" Dean turned round to see one of the male Nurses he hadn't noticed come in look up at him in-quizzically.

"Oh," he began, "yeah, just...bored. I guess."

The man smiled at Dean before picking up the towels he'd apparently come in for and walking away. Dean did a double take as he watched him go, forcing himself to concentrate everything he had on this man.

Dean took in his retreating back, his brunette hair, his long legs. He sighed to himself, he wasn't physically attracted to him, not in anyway.

Nothing about that man made him want to look twice.

Dean naturally assumed that after figuring out his complicated feelings for Sam, he must have been gay, or bi at least, but he'd made an exaggerated effort to check out any male Doctor or male Nurse that came into the ward and nothing about them interested him, he didn't even personally see them as particularly attractive even though they probably were.

Dean didn't understand, could you only be gay for one person? Was that a thing?

Because the thing about Sam, was that he had this attractiveness about him that even Dean noticed, he had one of those smiles that lit up his face and beautiful big brown eyes. The fact that he was a guy didn't even make a difference to Dean, if Sam were a Woman or a Man or even a Chimp Dean was sure he'd feel as attached to him as he did.

So, in that way, he didn't feel particularly gay. Maybe he wasn't, maybe Sam was just special.

Dean knew it was wrong to love Sam, he knew it. But, he'd been tossing and turning with the thought in his head all night and he couldn't change it.

Besides, just because he felt strongly about the kid, didn't mean he had to act on it. Although the idea of Sam not being in his life any more wasn't a particularly pleasant one. But there was nothing to stop them simply being friends, Dean didn't particularly want anything more than what they already had. But, when their hands happened to touch or Dean had accidently sat too close to Sam, the way he felt, he knew he had to question that.

But as Dean worried, he ignored that little voice in the back of his head that was just whispering that Sam would be okay, trying not to get his hopes up.

But something was just telling him Sam would pull through this, if Dean weren't so worried about his best friend he might have even realised that was hope.

…

It was coming up close to two hours later when conversation drifted into the ward and Dean looked up to see the Wesson family walk in accompanied by Sam.

Dean charged from his bed without a second thought and enveloped Sam into a tight hug, nearly lifting the boy off his feet.

He heard Gabriel snickering suggestively next to him but it barely registered, all he cared about was that Sammy was in his arms and he was okay. Dean hadn't realised how much he'd missed the warmth and the weight of contact with Sam.

He finally let him go, eyes making contact with the face of an oddly satisfied Sam. He looked weak, his face looked drawn out and his eyes looked tired, but he was alive.

"How are you feeling?" Asked Dean softly.

"I'm fine." Sam admitted, although his voice sounded weak.

"Hey, Dean!" Dean was forced to back away from Sam when Jessica shuffled her way between them and hugged Dean's legs.

"Hey, little one." Dean greeted, inadvertently smiling. As much as Dean had tried to avoid it, Jess was growing on him.

"Sam is sick." She told him, looking dismayed.

Dean nodded, "yeah. I know, don't worry Jess, I got him."

She smiled and hugged him again, Dean patted her gently on the back.

"Hey, Jess, why don't you come with me and we'll get you an apple juice." Jess grinned and walked to Gabriel who picked her up in his arms, as he passed, he winked at Dean, Dean raised an eyebrow in response and Gabriel laughed.

If circumstances were different they'd probably be buddies.

When Gabriel and Jessica were gone, Sam and Dean were left looking at each other. Sam was smiling widely, but it dropped slightly when he realised Dean was looking at him.

"So, what happened yesterday?" Sam asked, "I don't really remember much."

Dean shrugged slightly. "Well, we were just walking and you just started to stumble, and I kind of, grabbed you and you collapsed."

Sam was looking closed to horrified, but there was something else in his eyes Dean didn't notice.

"Honestly, you scared the crap out of me." Dean admitted honestly, all the carefully built walls around his voice dropping momentarily.

"You grabbed me?" Sam asked, eyes full of emotion.

Dean nodded. "Course I did. What was I supposed to do, let you fall?"

Sam smiled lightly. "Thanks."

The pair stood awkwardly for a moment, all Dean wanted was to take Sam into his arms and never let go of him, but that may have been kind of awkward with Sam's family close by and the fact that Dean had decided he could never tell Sammy about his feelings for him, it just wasn't right.

"You're sure you're feeling okay?" Dean asked, "you look exhausted."

Sam grinned slightly, "yeah, I am exhausted. I feel like I've just been winded, but I'm okay. They still don't know what's wrong with me."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Still? How can they not know, it's their damn job. Do you think..." Dean lowered his voice for Sam's benefit, "do you think it's got anything to do with...your condition?"

Sam merely shrugged, Dean figured he'd at least be a little bit uncomfortable talking to Dean about this sort of thing, but he seemed okay with it.

"Everything ends up linked to it," he admitted, "I mean, I was in here with a flu the first time round. I can't get a sniffle without practically dying."

Dean remembered what Doctor Singer had told him, about how little things could mean life or death for someone with H.I.V, Sam could have something Dean had and he hadn't noticed, or worse, he could have something Dean himself gave to him.

Dean tried to drive the thought away, Doctor Singer was right, he was going to drive himself crazy.

Dean looked up as Sam began to cough, Sam saw Dean staring worriedly at him. "You all right?" He asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I just have a bit of a sore chest."

The fact that Dean was so worried about Sam hurt more than anything else and the fact that Dean had held Sam when he fell hurt too.

Sam had had strong feelings for Dean since the beginning, and he hated it but he'd been in love with him for a long time.

Comparing Dean to Gary, he'd been slimy and horrible and ultimately evil, Sam had given up on men.

But then Dean walked into his life, he was so strong and brave and beautiful, with a defeatist nature that made him endearing. It was always a cert that Sam was going to fancy him like mad.

But then he got to know him, got to be his friend. Dean was more than hot and endearing. He was surprisingly kind and unbelievably caring, he looked after his Brother and his Mother when he didn't have a Father. He'd been looking after Sam since day one and he'd never once been short with him despite how crappy he felt.

Dean was the best man Sam had ever known and he couldn't even see it.

It made Sam feel genuine sadness for the first time in a long time, he'd never met anyone who could make him laugh like Dean could.

Sam watched as Jess dragged Dean over to the play area with Gabriel, it made him smile that Jess had taken to him, she'd be heartbroken if anything happened to Dean, but then so would Sam.

Dean always asked why Sam was so happy all the time, but generally it was because he was with him.

But Dean would never feel the same, Sam tried not to think about it, there was no point dwelling over something you couldn't change, that's what made him get through this whole ordeal in the first place.

…

When Sam climbed into his bed for the first time that day it was a comfort. It felt good to be back in the ward with the same surroundings he was used too, knowing where everything was, knowing Dean was only a metre away at all times and knowing that he was okay.

"It's gonna be weird when we get out of here." He finally voiced.

Dean grumbled half-heartedly in agreement from the other bed. Sam knew what Dean was thinking immediately even if he didn't say it.

He was still set that he wasn't going to survive this thing, he didn't say it as often as he used to because he knew Sam didn't like it but it was still there.

"Do you think..." he turned to Dean. "Do you think we'll still hang out and stuff?"

Dean looked at him, a little smile playing on his lips. " 'Course we will, Sammy. But right now we need to concentrate on getting you better."

Sam laughed slightly but half way through it turned into a cough, he tried to cover it up for Dean's benefit but when he looked back up he saw the older man staring at him.

"Are you in pain?" Asked Dean, concerned. "I can get one of the..." Dean was already beginning to sit up before Sam interrupted him.

"I'm fine, really. I just feel a little sore."

Dean looked weary for a few moments before slumping back onto the bed. It occurred to Sam that Dean spent so much time looking after Cas that it was just second nature to him to look after everyone else. It made Sam want to smile but at the same time it made him want to cry.

"It's like I've got a really bad cold or something." He admitted.

Dean's ears pricked up. "Oh no! You don't think you have the flu again, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, it's a different sort of feeling. Don't worry, I don't think you'll catch anything."

Dean shook his head disbelievingly.

"What?" Asked Sam.

"You think I'm worried about catching something?" Asked Dean rhetorically. "I'm worried about you, if the flu landed you in hospital the first time imagine what it could do the second."

"You're too nice to me, you know that?"

Dean looked down for a moment, an emotion in his eyes Sam couldn't quite pinpoint. "Well, we're friends."

There was silence for a moment.

"So we never actually got to finish that conversation." Dean said after a while.

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "What conversation?" He asked.

"We were chatting the woods, before you..." Dean paused for a moment, Sam looked at him expecting to see awkwardness not discomfort. "Before all that." He apparently decided on.

"Oh," Sam responded, "what were we talking about? I don't really remember."

"I was asking what you were going to do when you got out of here. You just reminded me of it."

"Oh right," said Sam, he chewed his lip for a moment. He could feel the pain in his chest, how his lungs felt two times smaller than normal. He momentarily wondered if he was going to get out of here, but he quickly banished that thought from his mind, that wasn't who he was, and not the person Dean needed him to be.

He shrugged slightly. "I guess I'll go back to school."

Dean nodded. "Did you have any plans? Like, something you wanted to do with your life?"

Sam blushed and looked away. "What?" Asked Dean, Sam could hear the grin in his voice even though he couldn't see him.

"It's kind of embarrassing now." He admitted,

He looked back to see Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "It wont be embarrassing, whatever it is." He told him, "you can tell me."

Sam paused for a few moments, praying Dean wouldn't laugh in his face. "I actually want to be a Doctor." He said finally.

He looked up to see Dean looking back at him, an unreadable emotion on his face. He wasn't laughing.

"There's nothing wrong with that." He said, "did you think I would laugh at you or something?"

Sam shrugged, embarrassed again at his misjudgement. "I guess it's just a bit stupid, considering we're both stuck in here."

Dean laughed, full-on laughed and Sam couldn't help but smile too.

"Sammy," he said, "you are gonna be a better Doctor than most of the people in here, I just know it."

"Really?" Asked Sam.

Dean nodded. "I promise."

Sam grinned, "you better keep that promise." He mock-threatened, causing Dean to laugh again.

"You know I will, I'll be right there in the crowd when you succeed."

It took a few moments for Dean's words to sink in as he said them. He imagined it in his head, being awarded a Doctorate and looking out and seeing Dean in the crowd, smiling that beautiful smile of his up at him, full of pride and love.

Sam would run to him and Dean would take him into his arms and kiss him and tell him he loved him and he was so proud of him.

And Dean would be there, he would be out and healthy and hopeful.

"Sammy...?"

Sam suddenly got pulled back into reality by Dean's voice.

"You all right? You drifted off for a bit, I was worried."

"Oh, no I'm fine. I just zoned out for a bit."

Dean nodded slightly, it obviously hadn't occurred to him that he'd just inadvertently suggested he was going to leave the hospital, Sam smiled to himself.

"So what made you want to become a Doctor?" Asked Dean.

"Honestly," Sam began, "I always wanted to help people."

"Well, you would," said Dean, laughing. "I don't get you sometimes, Sammy. You're the one who always helps people but you're the one that deserves all the help."

"Sometimes I think the same about you." Sam admitted honestly.

Dean looked confused. "Really? How the hell did you get that idea?"

"Well, you always look after Cas even without your Dad around..." Dean looked down immediately at the mention of his Father.

Sam tried to tread carefully. "So, what happened to your Dad?" He asked carefully.

"Sammy," Dean began, voice heavy. "I can't talk about that, I'm sorry..."

Sam shook his head immediately. "Don't worry about it."

He tried desperately to change the subject. "So, what about you? Anything you want do when you get out?"

Dean arched an eyebrow to himself. "I don't know." He admitted after a while. "I was debating with myself whether to go to College or not, but when I came here I figured it wasn't an issue any more."

Sam tried to steer Dean in the right direction. "But, if you did have the choice? I mean, I kind of figured you don't want to spend the rest of your life playing football."

"You know what?" Dean began, "I thought I wanted to, because it was all I was good at, but now, I'm not so sure."

"Well, what do you want to do?" Asked Sam.

"I have no idea." Dean admitted, laughing slightly. "Something, though."

Sam was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you should go the College. Do something you really want to do."

"Do you really want to be a Doctor?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I do. I want to help people, it's all I've ever wanted to do."

"Dad used to say helping was for losers," Dean began, putting on a voice that was meant to imitate his Fathers. " 'The only way to get anywhere is to look out for number one'." He quoted. "I guess he was kind of flawed that way." Dean's smile remained but it was forced.

"Everyone is flawed." Sam reminded him.

Dean laughed and fought off the urge to say except you.

"The truth is," continued Dean, "I always kind of blamed myself for Dad dying, so I always wanted to follow his advice, but it's not exactly the best advice."

Sam was listening intently, a frown present on his face. "Why did you blame yourself for your Dad's death?"

Dean looked momentarily shocked, like he hadn't realised he'd said the whole thing out loud. After a moment, the shock turned to the resigned defeat Sam was so used to and Dean began to speak.

"It was about six years ago, Mom was pregnant with Cas. I was only a kid and it was the first time I'd ever been to hospital..."

A 12 year old Dean Winchester sat in the emergency room, his Father on one side and his heavily pregnant Mother on the other side.

His Mother leant into him. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

Dean shrugged, trying to keep his bravado intact but his Mother could see right through it, she shared a look with John.

"I think the bleedings stopped," said Dean after a while.

"Let me check." Mary said, putting down the magazine she was reading and leaning down to Dean's amateurishly bandaged leg, the position made her obviously uncomfortable with her bump.

"Mom, don't." Dean began to protest, "don't hurt yourself..."

She smiled up at him. "Don't worry, Dean. I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

Dean closed his mouth, wincing as he allowed his Mother to pull back the bandaging on his leg to reveal and deep, bloodied flesh wound surrounded by mottled bruises.

Mary hissed as an inclination of how painful it looked. The bleeding had, indeed, stopped. The bandage was so soaked in blood, however, it was nearly dripping.

"Jeez, Dean-o." John chipped in. "You really did yourself up good."

Dean flushed with embarrassment. "It was an accident."

John smiled reassuringly. "I know, Son." He confirmed. "That's what you get for showing off on your bike."

Dean blushed again.

"John!" Mary scolded, "it was an accident, Dean's a young boy, young boy's fall off their bikes everyday!"

"Calm down, Mary. You don't want to upset the little one."

Mary, who had always been strong, opened her mouth to protest until one of the Nurses interrupted her.

"Mr and Mrs. Winchester?" She said, smiling. "We can see Dean now."

Dean followed the Nurse into a room where a Doctor was waiting, limping slightly on his bad leg but not allowing the pain to show. He had to be strong.

"Hello, Dean." The Doctor said brightly, Dean tried not to scowl, he hated being treated like a kid.

"Do you wanna hop up here for me?" He asked, patting a bed covered in thin paper, although it was more of an instruction.

Dean dutifully sat on the bed, trying his best to keep all the weight off his leg while his Mom and Dad sat on chairs opposite.

"So, what's the problem?" The Doctor asked.

"He's injured his leg falling off a bike," Mary said, "the wound was pretty deep and I bandaged it, but after a while it began to bleed a lot and turn a little discoloured so I brought him in."

The Doctor nodded as he bent down to examine Dean's leg, he poked and prodded and it made Dean want to cry. He hoped right there and then he'd never have to go back to another hospital.

After a while, the Doctor nodded to himself. "Yes, that is a little infected."

He stood up straight. "Nothing to worry about, Dean. I'm going to dress it for you and then give you a prescription for some antibiotics you'll need to take everyday. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Said Dean bluntly, watching as he saw his Mother try not to laugh.

Dean watched in interest as the Doctor cleaned the wound and wrapped a fresh bandage around it.

He then passed Mary some more bandages and a slip of paper, telling her that his prescription needed to be picked up from their local drug store.

Mary thanked him, John shook his hand and Dean didn't say a word as they all walked out of the hospital.

Both Dean and Mary were waddling.

The drive back to the house was uneventful, Dean looked up immediately from the back of the car as he heard his Mother hiss in pain.

"Mom?" He asked, concerned. "You okay?"

Mary nodded and smiled, "yeah, just your little Brother using me as a punching bag."

"You figured out what you're going to call him yet?" Asked Dean, John shook his head.

"What about Aragorn?" Asked Dean.

John scoffed. "Dean, we're not giving him some stupid Lord of the Rings name."

Dean huffed.

When they arrived home, John helped Dean hobble into the house despite his attempts to stop him.

"How about a nice bath?" Mary said to Dean when they got into the kitchen. Dean was still covered in dirt where he'd fallen from his bike so nodded gratefully.

Mary smiled at him and went to run his bath, Dean tried to help her but she refused his help, telling him to relax.

"You're going to be a great Big brother one day." She'd said.

Dean had smiled but in his head he highly doubted it.

A few minutes later, Dean was in the bathroom stripping down to his underwear when he heard his Mother curse loudly from the other room.

He snickered to himself and opened the door, wondering what she was annoyed about. He could hear her talking to his Father in the kitchen.

"John, we forgot Dean's antibiotics," she was saying.

"Oh shit," said John, "sorry babe, I forgot all about it."

"It's okay," Mary said, "we can go grab them now while Dean's in the bath, I'm sure he's old enough to be on his own for five minutes."

Dean rolled his eyes at his Mother's ever-present concern.

"I'll go get them," John was saying, "you stay here, you must be exhausted with the little one."

There was a pause. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." John said, "you go put your feet up, I'll be back in five minutes."

"Okay, I love you."

"I love you."

As soon as Dean heard the disgusting smacking of his parents kissing he decided it was time to abandon the conversation and closed the door, getting into his bath.

John wasn't back for a long time. Dean was out of his bath and dry and he and his Mom had already eaten dinner and he still hadn't come back.

Mary was worriedly pacing the lounge and calling John's cellphone, but he wasn't answering.

Dean was confused, the drug store was only five minutes up the road. Maybe his Dad had stopped in a bar for a drink, that sounded like him.

When Dean expressed this thought to his Mother, she eventually agreed with him and began to relax.

Dean and Mary were watching TV when there came a knock on the door, Mary got up to answer it and Dean followed out of habit, half expecting his Dad to have forgotten his keys.

Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he saw a Police Officer standing there, stood stock still with a morbid look on his face.

"Mrs Winchester?" The Police Officer asked in the Southern accent.

"Yes?" Asked Mary, and even though Dean couldn't see her face he could hear the reservation in her voice.

The Officer's gaze listed to Dean and he looked weary. "Maybe we could speak in private?" He asked politely, obviously directing it to Mary.

After a moment, Mary turned to Dean. "Sweetheart," she began quietly, "why don't you go back into the lounge? Rest your leg."

Dean wanted to protest, not wanting to leave his Mother alone, but he could hear the authority in her voice so he turned and left.

He sat in the lounge for what couldn't have been more than three minutes when he heard a startled cry come from his Mom.

He bolted to her as fast as his injured leg would carry him, he didn't quite know what he was expecting to see.

Maybe the Officer had assaulted her? But no, she was stood there, the Officer still in front of her, she was leant against the door frame holding her stomach like she was in pain. Dean momentarily wondered if the baby was coming.

"Mom..!"

Mary turned to him, she was crying.

"Mom!" Began Dean in alarm.

"Dean, go back to the lounge!" She all but shouted, tears streaming down her face. "Please!"

It went against every instinct in his body but he turned away again.

He was sat in the lounge for longer this time, no matter how hard he strained he couldn't hear what they were saying, he couldn't hear his Mother crying.

He continued to wonder if the baby was coming. He knew his Dad would get a slap when he found out he missed it, Dean might have just punched him, too.

Dean's thought process was interrupted by his Mother walking back into the room, Dean stood up immediately but almost instantly regretted it when he felt a pang of pain in his leg.

"Mom?" He asked, "what did that cop want? What's wrong?"

"Dean." Began Mary quietly, and Dean fell silent. Mary walked over to him slowly and Dean watched in scared confusion as she did so.

When she reached him, she reached her hands out and took both of his in hers. Her hands were clammy, and she was too quiet.

"Mom." He began again. "Please."

Silent, fresh tears coursed down her face and she attempted to blink them away, she was clutching so tightly onto Dean's hands he thought she was glued to them. He wouldn't let go. Dean's eyes searched hers, trying desperately to find answers she wouldn't give him.

"It's your Father," she said carefully, "he's..." more tears came. "He's been in a car accident."

"What?" Asked Dean in shock, "What!? Well, well, is he okay?" He asked desperately, eyes alight with concern.

More tears coursed down Mary's face as she shook her head. "No honey," she cried. "He's dead."

Dean felt everything he'd ever had in him fall away, Mary's grip on his hands was strong but he couldn't feel her anymore.

…

Mary and Dean had sat in the Police station while a cop explained what happened to John. He'd been heading to the drug store and a delivery van had cornered too sharply on the round about. His wheels had slipped and the butt of his truck had tumbled and hit their car.

Dean's eyes hadn't left the floor the whole time, Mary was still holding his hand, among other things Dean hoped this wouldn't shove her into early labour. Not only would it be a horrible strain on her but it could be damaging to his baby Brother.

When they walked out of the police station, Mary lowered herself to her knees so she was more at Dean's height, he hadn't quite reached his Father's six foot status yet.

"Mom," Dean protested exasperatedly, seeing how much discomfort she was in.

She took his face into her hands and stared into his eyes, Dean was then grateful that his eyes were green like hers and not blue like his Father's, that was last thing she needed.

He couldn't begin to imagine what she must be going through, especially considering how vulnerable she was right now. She needed John to get her through this, but now it was Dean's job and he would not fail her.

"Dean," she began, "I know this must be a terrible time for you, but what happened to your Father, this was not your fault. I need you to be brave."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Mom."

"Mrs Winchester?" Mary stood slowly and looked around to see a man in his mid-fifties with a kind face and greying hair looking sadly on her.

"Yes?" She asked, confused. "Do I know you?"

After a beat of silence, he spoke. "My name is Dr. Castiel Hopkins," he began, "I was the paramedic sent out to your husband's car crash." He explained, "They wanted me to give a statement to the Police of what happened."

"Oh." Mary replied, obviously having no idea what to say. Not that Dean could blame her.

"I tried everything in my power to save your husband." Dr. Castiel explained. "I am deeply, deeply sorry for your grief. I promise you, I did try."

Mary nodded, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Castiel." She said, and Dean could hear the genuine sincerity in her voice.

"You're most welcome." Dr. Castiel replied, before adding more condolences and biding them farewell.

When they walked out into the sunshine, Mary was still crying.

The air didn't feel right without John there. Despite all his Mother had said, his Father's death had been his fault, he could never redeem himself of that. He silently promised his Father that he would be everything his Brother needed and he would look after him for him. He also silently told his Father to never forgive him, and he never let go of that.

…

Sam honestly had no idea what to say.

Everything Dean had described, and the numb way he had described it sounded so horrible.

Sam couldn't comprehend what Dean must have felt, how in the hell he'd coped.

But the one thing that was glaringly obvious was why Dean believed he deserved death, why he never allowed himself to hope or to be truly happy.

It wasn't because he blamed himself for his Father's death, even though he did.

It was because he felt like he had stripped Cas of everything he thought he deserved and he'd spent everyday since loving his Brother to try and make up for it. He believed he had ruined his Mother's life and caused her pain.

It wasn't John that Dean couldn't get over, that wasn't what made death so easy for him, it was his family John left behind that Dean thought would be better off without him.

"Dean." He began.

"Please, Sam." Dean began, "don't. I don't need to hear it. You were so concerned I'd judge you when you told me about your past, well I knew exactly what you meant. Now you can go ahead and judge me."

There was such sorrow in Dean's eyes that it nearly split Sam apart.

"I never wanted that to happen." Dean almost whispered in resigned defeat.

Before Dean could move, Sam had his arms wrapped around him.

"Sammy?" Asked Dean.

Sam pulled away but kept a hold of Dean, Dean had a sudden urge to pull Sam into his arms and kiss him for all he was worth. The thought made him want to break something.

As Sam stared up at the man he loved, battling all those emotions inside his head in a completely different way, he finally understood him. There was no part of Dean that was stranger to him anymore.

"Dean Winchester," he began, "your Father's death was not your fault," he emphasized every word, Dean's attention well and truly captivated. "It was an accident, and deep down you know it. You didn't ruin your family's lives."

"But I did..." Dean tried to protest before Sam cut him off.

"You know what I see, when I see Cas? I see a well adjusted, happy, amazing little kid that loves his big Brother more than anything, and I bet it never once occurred to him that he never had a Dad, because he did. And when I look at your Mother, all I see is the never ending pain in her eyes as she thinks she's going to lose you. Your Dad's death didn't break her because she had you, but this will break her and it will break Cas if you check out."

Dean was staring, stunned at Sam. He looked like he had forgotten how to speak.

"And..." Sam began slowly, "it would...break me."

Now there was genuine confusion plastered over Dean's face. "Sammy?"

"You're my best friend," Sam admitted, "my hope and my silver linings don't get me through the day, Dean, you do!"

Sam sighed, knowing where this route would take him, knowing how close he could be from losing Dean forever.

"I need you. You can't leave me."

Sam didn't even realise he was crying until Dean reached out and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, he was so soft. Then his strong arms were wrapped around Sam's frame.

"I won't leave you, Sam, I promise. I promise, I promise." Dean kept repeating over and over like a mantra. He never knew Sam would feel that much pain at him leaving, and he'd never realised until this point how much he wanted to stay.

He wanted to watch Cas start high school, he wanted to see his Mom find another man.

He wanted to be there in the crowd when Sam accepted his Doctorate.

He didn't want to die.

…

Mary Winchester knocked lightly on Doctor Singer's office door, waiting for an answer.

"Come in." Came a voice.

Mary opened the door and Doctor Singer looked up to her and smiled.

"Mrs Winchester, please have a seat." He said, indicating the chair opposite his desk.

"Thank you, Doctor Singer." She said, taking the offered seat.

"Please, call me Bobby." Doctor Singer said. "Mrs Winchester, I'd like to talk you about Dean."

Mary nodded. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, he seems quite well. There have been no drastic changes in his condition."

Mary waited for him to carry on.

After a while, Doctor Singer spoke again. "I have come to a decision about Dean's condition." He said slowly.

Mary leaned forward in her seat immediately. "Yes? What do you think?"

"I have not yet told Dean," he continued, and Mary could swear he looked forlorn. "I believe, it is possible for Dean's tumour to be operated on."

Mary's head fell back against her shoulders as the tears cascaded down her face and she felt the biggest weight lift from her.

"Bobby," she said after a while, "thank you, my baby's..."

"Mrs Winchester," Doctor Singer cut her off. "Please, allow me to finish."

Mary fell silent, waiting for him to tell her there was no hope and waiting for all the pain to come rushing back. "I can't lose my baby," she told him quietly, "Cas can't lose his Brother. There has to be something you can do."

"I believe Dean is at a stage in his condition where his tumour will be able to be operated on. In many cases of cranial tumours, such as Dean's, the tumour continues to grow and latches deep into the brain so operating is not an option. Dean's tumour has stopped growing."

"So," began Mary, fresh tears on her face. "You think you can take it out?"

"I think we can try," he continued, looking solemn. "But, the tumour itself is already dangerous and at such a pivotal place at the top of Dean's spine that if the operation is not a success..." Doctor Singer sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It could result in severe brain damage." He was quiet for a long moment. "Fatal brain damage."

Mary hung her head in her hands, racking sobs taking control of her. Bobby watched her in sorrow, knowing how hard this must be for her. He regretted having to tell Dean the same thing.

"So, what you're saying," Mary said after a while, voice thick. "Is that if Dean has this operation, it could kill him."

"And if he doesn't, the tumour eventually will." Bobby countered.

"So he doesn't have a choice?!" Mary all but shouted, eyes red. "He dies either way?"

"He has a 50% chance at survival if he decides to go through with this." Bobby told her, "I will personally do everything in my power to save Dean Winchester, but at the end of the day, it's his choice."

Mary nodded. "Yes. He's lost so much, he needs his choice, it's what's kept him in control."

Bobby nodded. "Your son is very tough," he told her, "I'm not just saying that to make you feel better, he is genuinely a strong Human being, with a good family and good friends, I think he has an great chance of survival."

"Dean has always had a knack for doing things that are practically impossible." Mary admitted.

"Impossible?" Asked Doctor Singer.

Mary nodded and laughed through her pain. "Yeah, lets just say he got me through some tough times just be existing."

Doctor Singer laughed with her. "I can believe that."

…

"That's really what they told you?!" Sam exclaimed excitedly.

Dean nodded as he sat perched at the end of the 17 year olds bed. "That's about the size of it, yeah."

"Dean, that's amazing!" Sam sat up and hugged Dean.

"Will you stop moving?" Dean berated, "we're supposed to be keeping you alive."

Sam laughed but it turned into a cough midway through. "I feel a hell of a lot better," he admitted.

Dean turned to face him. "They still don't know what's up?" He asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, this is the awkward moment where it turns out I just have a cold."

He chuckled but Dean didn't, he seemed almost glum.

"Dean," began Sam, "please tell me you're happy about this."

Dean shrugged slightly. "Not particularly."

Sam got out from under his covers and sat next to Dean at the end of his bed. "Why not?"

"They said you shouldn't move..." Dean protested, and Sam could have punched him.

"Why don't you care that you're getting the operation, that you're not gonna die in here?" Asked Sam forcefully.

"The operation is a choice, Sammy." Dean replied in a hard voice.

"What do you mean?" Asked Sam, eyebrows knitting together.

Dean stared at the floor, like he was building himself up to telling Sam the one thing he didn't want to tell him. The one thing he himself didn't want to know.

"It could kill me, Sam." He said quietly, "if I'm lucky, I'm all right, if I'm not, then my brain gets destroyed and I die, you might not have noticed by luck isn't one of my finer points." He finished sarcastically.

Sam stared at him. "Are you gonna take it? The operation, I mean."

Dean shrugged, eyes still on the floor. "I don't know." He turned to face Sam, a look of pure dejection on his face. "I'm gonna die, Sam. No matter what I choose, I'm gonna die, I've accepted it from the beginning."

Sam shook his head. "Will you please stop talking like that?" He asked, "your life isn't over, Dean. You just need to give it chance."

Dean laughed humourlessly and stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And what exactly has life done for me, Sam?" He asked irritably. "It took my Dad, it gave my best friend an incurable disease and it's landed me in a God damn hospital with a death sentence over my head!"

"Yes, your best friend does have an incurable illness." Sam said forcefully, Dean could hear the hardness in his voice. "My problem is gonna kill me," Sam reminded Dean. "I don't like thinking about, and I don't want to die, but eventually H.I.V or A. is going to wipe me out and there is no cure." He used the last two words like a punch.

"You keep forgetting how lucky you are," Sam continued, "yeah, it sucks. But you have a 50/50% chance of survival. You have a chance, Dean." Sam's voice had turned pleading. "That's all I ever wanted for you. You're stronger than me and you're gonna make this."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. He kept doing it, he kept forgetting Sam was sick. He kept forgetting because he hated it, he kept forgetting because he didn't want the person he loved taken away from him. Maybe that was why death was so easy to handle, because he wouldn't be leaving Sammy behind.

But now it wasn't easy to handle, Sam had shown him that. The one person who made Dean want to live was the one person he'd be leaving behind. Sam was his light and his curse.

"Sammy, I'm so sorry." Said Dean quietly. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"It's okay," Sam assured him, his usual calmness returning to his voice. It was a relief to Dean.

"I'm sorry I get worked up so much." Dean apologised.

Sam smiled slightly. "You can fool Cas because he's so young." Sam explained. "But I'm your friend and I can see right through it."

Of course Sam could see everything he'd spent his whole life building walls around. After a few moments of silence Dean spoke again.

"I don't know why you put up with me." Dean admitted, slumping down onto the end of Sam's bed again.

Sam chuckled and sat next to him. "You have your perks." He admitted honestly in a joking voice.

Dean turned his head to him and smiled tiredly.

All Sam wanted to do was cup his cheek and feel how warm it was, but he couldn't.

Dean was silent for a long time, Sam wished he knew what he was thinking, he wished he could ask.

"Do you ever get scared?" Asked Dean after a while.

Sam smiled, he certainly wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth.

"I'm always scared." Said Sam.

Dean turned immediately to Sam, confusion in his eyes. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded.

"Then how in the hell do you do what you do?" Asked Dean incredulously.

Sam shrugged. "I was gifted with being able to see the brighter side of things."

Dean shook his head and laughed humourlessly. "There is no bright side to this," he said, "unless you're hallucinating."

Sam laughed again. "Trust me, there is a bright side."

Dean huffed beside him and Sam sat silent for a moment, he snaked his hand out and gently brushed against Dean's arm.

Dean looked down as Sam interconnected his hand into his own. The contact made his skin tingle.

Dean looked up at Sam, eyes screaming out a million words he couldn't say.

"Bright side." Said Sam quietly, not smiling.

Dean tried to stop staring at Sam, but he couldn't. He couldn't possibly mean what he was saying, Dean wasn't the bright side to anyone's life, and he couldn't possibly mean what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" Asked Dean, Sam thought he imagined fear in his voice.

Sam quickly let go of Dean's hand and laughed, but Dean could see right through it.

"Sammy..." He began.

"This operation," Sam interrupted, like nothing had happened. "What do you think?"

Dean was taken aback by this sudden change of subject and it took him a few minutes to respond. His brain was slow enough in his current condition without people throwing curve balls at him.

Dean looked at Sam, eyes searching his. "Do you really think I could survive this?" He asked, and he sounded like a child, more innocent and pleading than Sam had ever heard him.

"It doesn't matter what I think." Sam said, "do you want to live?"

Dean considered for a moment. "Yes." He said eventually, the image of Sam and the doctorate in his head again. "I do."

Sam smiled widely, "then there's your answer."

Dean raised his eyebrow in agreement, he couldn't fault him there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finally got my new laptop and this is my first official fanfiction post with it, and I can guilt trip you all for reviews because it's my birthday, ha ha x

Dean was dead. He could see himself, lying alone on the operating table, not moving.

There were no staff around, no Doctor's trying to revive him, even though Doctor Singer had promised he wasn't there.

Dean supposed this must be an out-of-body experience, but as he looked down on himself, not breathing, he suddenly realised he didn't have a body to go back into.

Fighting off his anxiety, Dean quietly exited the operating theatre to find someone, anyone that could help him, he'd be damned if he was going to stay a disembodied spirit forever.

Dean was surprised he could actually walk through the hospital, he half-expected he would fall through the floors.

He didn't really know much about ghosts, or any sort of Supernatural being, he really should though.

Among other things, Dean was slightly concerned that it didn't seem to bother him that he was dead, that he hadn't made it, it had been inevitable, he supposed.

What really bothered him was that he couldn't see anyone, the whole place was like a deserted ghost town, he supposed he should find that phrase offensive now.

Dean shook his head, the hospital was exactly the same in every way except he couldn't see anyone.

Then, suddenly, it hit him. Maybe because he wasn't a Human anymore, it wasn't that no one was there, it was that he just couldn't see them, like they couldn't see him.

Dean began to panic and made a beeline for his hospital ward. When he got there, he couldn't see the one thing he wanted to see.

"Sam?" He called out, looking around the room, but there was nothing there. "SAM!"

"Sam is not here." Came a sudden, inhuman voice. Dean turned and gasped in shock as he was faced with an almost translucent creature with a horrifying face, it was floating a few inches from the ground and was more what Dean expected a ghost to look like.

Dean's survival instincts kicked in immediately and he bolted for the door, trying to find Sam, Mom, anyone that could help.

He heard the air whooshing behind him as the ethereal spectre gained on him.

"You cannot escape me, Dean," it called out to him in it's hideously wispy voice, "I need to reap you..."

Dean suddenly collided with a wall and in a fit of pain found himself in his hospital bed, breathing heavily and staring up at the ceiling, his head was sore.

"You all right?" Asked Sam.

Dean turned to see the younger man looking at him in confusion.

Taking in his surroundings, Dean slowly sat up. "Yeah," he said after a while, lifting a hand to his throbbing forehead. "Weird dream, that's all."

"Have you got a headache?"Asked Sam, Dean nodded.

"Yeah, don't worry. It'll go away soon."

Sam nodded but Dean could still see he was worried.

As Dean got a proper look at Sam, perched on the side of his bed, he pushed all thoughts of his bizarre nightmare out of his head.

Sam's face looked drawn out and ill, not as ill as he had been previously but he definitely looked like he'd woken up on the wrong side of bed.

His eyes looked tired and his hair was a mess, and he looked a little glum.

"When did you get back?" Asked Dean, referring to Sam having to leave a few hours ago so they could finally get to the bottom of what was wrong with him. Dean had offered to go with him but Sam had gently reclined, telling him to get some sleep.

Dean had gratefully taken the offer but he wished he hadn't now.

"About 15 minutes ago," Sam said, "you were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you."

Dean almost told him that he should have, to free him from his ridiculous nightmare, but the kid looked like he had enough to worry about.

"And?" Dean prompted, leaving the matter to rest. "What did they say?"

Sam's eyes wavered for a moment and he scratched his elbow, it was obvious he was feeling uncomfortable.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me." Dean reassured him gently, Sam and Dean's relationship had pretty much returned to normal after the awkward, hand-holding incident. But Dean could tell Sam still felt bad about it, but he couldn't think of any way to bring it up. Besides, now wasn't the time.

"No, it's not that I don't want to tell you," Sam explained, "I just know you're going to be worried."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm already worried so there's no point closing the stable doors after the horse has bolted."

Sam hummed in agreement. "all right," he said after a while, taking a deep breath. "I've got Pneumonia."

Dean jerked his head forward in shock, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?"

Sam shrugged.

Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "How the hell do you just catch Pneumonia?"

"Like I said," Sam began, "I'm a lot more susceptible to some stuff, Pneumonia's pretty common in H.I.V sufferers."

Dean nodded slightly. "My Uncle had Pneumonia." He said, although he neglected to mention that he died.

Dean was worried, from everything he'd heard and experienced Pneumonia was bad, and Sam didn't have a strong immune system anyway.

"Sammy," began Dean, "are you...?"

Sam could see that Dean was deeply worried, but he found he had no idea what to say to him.

"I'm okay," Sam admitted, "it was a bit of a shock, I'll give you that, but Doctor Singer reckons I'll recover just fine."

"So long as you're okay." Dean persisted.

Sam nodded, "I think I'm fine, I feel fine anyway."

"You don't look it." Said Dean before he could help himself. Sam laughed, dimples and all and it made him look better instantly, Dean couldn't help but smile too.

…

"Like some sort of Reaper?" Sam asked, and Dean clicked his fingers.

"Exactly! That's the word." He shook his head, "that was a creepy ass dream." He admitted.

Sam nodded, "yeah, you're good at that."

Dean couldn't help but grin.

"The only reason you're having these dreams is because the date for your operation has been set," Sam reminded him, Dean guessed he was trying to be comforting him but wasn't helping.

"Yeah." Dean agreed, smile gone.

"You need to stop worrying," said Sam, not a shadow of doubt in his voice. "You're gonna be fine, I just know you."

Dean laughed humourlessly, "I hope you're right, kid."

Sam grinned. "I'm always right."

Dean laughed again, "yeah, you are." He admitted quietly.

"I don't know how I would have done this without you, Sammy." Said Dean after a while, Sam wasn't smiling anymore, he was just staring.

Sam cleared his throat. "I'm sure you would have been just fine."

Dean shook his head, "no, I wouldn't have." He looked up at Sam, "I'm telling you this because there's a good chance I might not make it out next week-" Sam went to interrupt him but Dean shushed him.

"I just want to thank you, Sam. For putting up with me and helping me...you know...cope."

"I guess, you're welcome." Replied Sam after a while, the pair laughed but something in the air was changing and Sam couldn't put his finger on it.

Despite everything in his body screaming out in protest against it, Sam had to admit that Dean was right, there was the slightest of slight chances that this operation could go horribly wrong...it was in that moment that Sam realised Dean was saying goodbye.

"I don't want to say goodbye," Sam admitted softly, "I don't want to be faced with the prospect of losing you." These things were easier to say with his eyes glued to the ground, but it didn't make them easier to feel.

Sam knew from the start that some sort of ending was coming for Dean, that they wouldn't be in the hospital ward forever, but he'd always pushed it to the back of his mind, he figured there was no point in giving in any energy when it wasn't happening yet.

But now it was happening, now Dean had a life and death operation in a week and Sam didn't know if he could cope.

He put on pleasantries and hope for Dean but he was scared, he was so scared he wasn't going to be spending the rest of his life in this hospital ward with Dean.

Dean didn't know what to say for a moment, he knew he and Sammy were good friends and there had been something between them for a while now, something to make him question whether his feelings were unrequited.

But he was trying to say goodbye in the easiest way possible and Sam wouldn't let him.

"Sammy," began Dean, voice heavy. "I know it sucks, but you know as well as I do, that I might have to leave."

"You can't leave," Sam said, looking up at him, eyes brimming with emotion. "You can't leave me, I love you!"

The room was completely silent for a long time, it felt like hours. But the silence was doing enough talking for the both of them.

No matter how much Dean tried, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Sam's tear-filled eyes, and he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

In his subconscious, he wanted Sam to love him back, but it was also the last thing he wanted. Even though it hurt like hell, Dean didn't want the kid to waste that emotion on him, especially considering he was no good for him and especially considering he could die.

"Sam, you can't feel that way." Dean told him.

"I can't help it," Sam replied, emotion in his voice. "You don't see it," he continued, "you don't see that you're amazing and clever and funny," his voice braking as he ticked off his metaphorical list. "You're strong and you're brave and literally everything I ever wanted to be." He paused for a moment, trying to gage Dean's reaction but he couldn't. "I think I've been in love with you from the start," he admitted, "I just needed you to know that."

Sam watched as Dean shook his head, he looked genuinely miserable. "You can't have feeling's for me," he said, more to himself that Sam.

"All right," Said Sam, "I'll drop it, I promise, I'll act like nothing happened. Just look at me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel anything."

Dean complied, he looked into Sam's brown eyes, overflowing with tears and of course he felt it, he felt everything. He'd felt everything for a long time.

Looking into Sam's eyes made him powerless, it made him want to get down on his knees, it made him want to be selfish.

Dean shook his head and sighed to himself like he was telling himself off before he plunged and hand behind Sam's neck and crushed his lips to his.

Sam moaned as he made contact with Dean's lips for the first time, instinctively throwing his arms around Dean's neck and pulling him closer, his lips hot and soft and urging and everything Sam had wanted it to be.

Dean forgot, momentarily forgot Sam was sick and kissed him harder, swallowing the moans Sam made like it was life energy.

Sam opened his mouth and Dean found his tongue and it was everything he wanted in his life.

If the tumour decided to turn right now and kill him he'd die the happiest he'd ever been.

Dean finally broke off the kiss after the need for Oxygen won but he didn't take his hand from Sam's hair, he hadn't noticed that in the heat of the moment he'd put an arm around Sam's waist and Sam still had his arms around his neck and now the pair were impossibly close.

Dean searched Sam's closed eyes, and swollen lips, mouth open in bliss.

When Sam eventually opened his eyes they found Dean's and he smiled.

Dean couldn't help himself, it had been the right thing to do.

…

The next morning, Dean had barely had a chance to say hello to Sam before the nurses had come to take him away to some scan.

Generally this only served to piss him off but not today, today Dean was actually happy for the first time in a long time, he hadn't realised how much he'd missed it.

He knew he should feel bad, he knew he should hate himself for taking advantage of Sam or for letting things go too far when any number of bad things could happen to either one of them, and in a way, he did.

But Dean couldn't shake just how genuinely good he felt and he didn't want to let go of that, he figured it was at least fair to let himself have that for a little while.

Dean remembered what Sam had said to him, all the things he said about wanting to be just like Dean.

He remembered him telling him he loved him, it was something he doubted he'd ever forget. Despite the guilt and the sadness it also brought him a sort of light, a fulfilment he hadn't felt in a long time.

Dean knew he should have said it back, because it was true. Oh God it was true, but the words just didn't come out.

He didn't want Sam to feel like he was leading him on or that he didn't feel the same, but the way he had looked when Dean had kissed him suggested he was quite content with everything the way it was.

Maybe that was it, Dean thought to himself, maybe Sam was his second chance? Maybe they'd genuinely have a shot at this, maybe they'd both get out just fine.

…

Sam smiled at a Doctor he had never met before as he sat at his desk, he momentarily wondered where Doctor Singer was.

"Hello Sam, my name is Doctor Jenner," he introduced himself, offering a hand to Sam.

"Hello." Sam replied politely, taking the Doctor's hand and shaking it.

"Now we've taken some blood tests and I would like to start you on some new pills to try and clear your chest," Doctor Jenner explained, "how are you feeling?"

Sam smiled again, more out of habit than anything else. "It feels like I have a terrible cold," he admitted honestly, "but I feel better everyday, like my bones are getting stronger."

Doctor Jenner smiled and nodded. "That's good, Sam. That's very good. Whilst Pneumonia is fairly common for people suffering with H.I.V, a lot of people overcome it quite easily. While your immune system wasn't at it's best when you acquired Pneumonia, it certainly looks like you'll make a decent recovery."

Sam sighed in relief. "That's good, I was worried."

Jenner smiled again, "no need to be worried, your tests show you're in good health."

Sam smiled despite the fact Doctor Jenner was completely wrong, he wasn't relieved because he was going to be okay, he was pretty sure about that from the start. He was relieved he had the conformation so Dean would stop jumping out of his skin every time he coughed, Dean needed his mind to be put at ease, especially with his operation coming up.

Thinking about Dean made Sam smile, he knew he shouldn't act like a love sick teenager over it, but he couldn't help it. Dean was his friend, so the familiarity was there, but now there was a whole new side of him he was going to get to see, he wanted to giggle but it wasn't exactly helping with the gay stereotype. Everything was going his way, all his positive thinking couldn't be for nothing.

…

"This is...lovely..." Ellen began awkwardly, and Dean and Sam snickered.

The Wesson family and the Winchester family were all sat around a table in the empty hospital canteen.

The food wasn't exactly the best but it didn't make anyone want to puke.

"You'd think you'd get better treatment." Mary began, Dean rolled his eyes.

"We don't always eat here, but since you're bombarding us with your presence..."

Mary punched Dean lightly in the arm and Gabriel leant into Sam. "They're like best mates."

Sam shrugged, "it's cool." He admitted,

He looked over to where Dean was laughing with his Mom and leant on his arm, watching him.

Dean caught Sam's eye and grinned at him, Sam tried not to blush.

It was fair to say that the two families weren't exactly best pals yet, Mary and Ellen got on well and Dean and Gabriel were really started to hit it off, Michael however, seemed to being pretty inclusive, he didn't make any effort to talk to anyone.

Whilst Dean's Dad hadn't been amazing, he was at least friendly.

Another awkward thing that came from both of their families being there was that Sam really just wanted to be with Dean. He wanted to kiss him and hold him instead of furtively looking at him across the table.

"So, Sam said you played football before all this." Said Gabriel, looking at Dean.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, a little bit,"

Gabriel nodded. "You gonna go back to it?" He asked.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not sure, I'll probably still play but not full time."

"Fair enough," Gabriel said, "you got any other plans? I know Sam's being geeky and going back to school." Sam rolled his eyes as Gabriel shook him jokingly.

Dean laughed. "Actually," Dean continued, eyes drifting to Sam. "I'm going to go College."

Mary looked up. "Really?" She asked, glee in her eyes.

Dean nodded, "yeah, best next move after High school and all that."

Mary positively beamed, Dean glanced at Sam to see him smiling proudly at him.

Dean wished they were closer together, he wanted to hold his hand under the table at least.

"What are you studying?" Asked Ellen.

Dean smiled. "Literature."

Mary quirked an eyebrow and Sam smiled behind his hand. Mary wouldn't know, how could she know, how much Dean read when it was only him and Sam. Sam could see the way he devoured every word, the way he truly enjoyed reading to Cas.

Cas hopped from his seat and sat on Dean's lap, Dean snaked his arms around the 6 year olds waist to keep him in place.

Cas looked up at Dean with interest. "Dean, what's..." he looked like he was struggling for a moment, "litatore?"

Dean smiled despite himself. "Lit-er-a-ture, Cas. It means books."

"Oh!" Said Cas delightedly, "you can write new books for us! We can be the characters!" Cas was giddy as he formed the plot line to his masterpiece in his head. "I can be king of the pirates, and you and Sam have to hide the treasure from everyone!"

Dean laughed.

"Us against the world," said Sam, staring at Dean. "That sounds like us."

"Hey Sam, pass the salt please." Said Michael suddenly, effectively cutting off the intimate staring contest between Sam and Dean.

Sam blushed as he looked away and Dean just wanted to grab him and never let go. Sam dutifully picked up the salt and stood to lean across the table and pass it to his Father, but as he stood, his brain clouded and he felt suddenly weak.

Sam stumbled and dropped the salt, the crack as it hit the floor was loud and reverberated inside Dean's sensitive skull, Dean had already stood and was ready to make the mad dash for Sam if he saw him falling again, but Sam managed to steady himself and regain his balance.

Ellen looked worriedly at Sam and Gabriel put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You all right, buddy?"

Sam nodded and smiled slightly even though he looked flushed. "Yes, I just felt a bit weak suddenly, I'm fine though."

Ellen nodded but there was still concern in her eyes, Gabriel retracted his hand but it looked like he didn't want to.

Dean stared worriedly across to Sam from the other side of the table, he was still stood.

Not wanting to make things more awkward for Sam, he slowly sat down, feeling the tremors of a new and familiar headache in his skull.

Sam sat down again and he was laughing.

"What?" Asked Gabriel.

Sam tried in vain to conceal his smile. "I did a Dean." He said before laughing again.

Everyone around the table joined in with the laughter aside from Cas and Dean. Cas, most probably because he didn't get the joke, and Dean because he was too busy rolling his eyebrows and making a mental note to tell Sam how very not funny he was.

…

Gabriel was watching over Sam as he rested on one of the chairs in the canteen. He'd closed his eyes for a moment and hadn't opened them in ten minutes, Gabriel assumed he'd fallen asleep but didn't want to wake him, he looked so peaceful.

After a moment, Sam blearily opened his eyes and shifted on the seat, he looked up to see Gabriel looking down on him and grinning, he recoiled slightly in shock and frowned, sitting up.

"Did I fall asleep?" He asked, looking around.

"Only for a minute," Gabriel told him, "I didn't want to disturb you."

Sam smiled at his brother. "Thanks."

Gabe smiled back.

Sam continued to look around the canteen. "Where's D...everyone?" He quickly changed, blushing. Gabriel smirked, nothing about Sammy could get past him.

"They all went back to the ward." He explained, "you were asleep and they didn't want to wake you up," his lip twitched in amusement as he contemplated bringing it up. "It was a job trying to get Dean to leave without you."

Sam looked up to his brother. "Really?" He asked, sounding more satesfied than he should have been.

Gabriel nodded. "You guys have gotten pretty close lately." He observed after a while.

Sam merely shrugged, Gabriel frowned slightly. Sam never shrugged stuff off.

"We're friends." He answered simply, "we get on well. I guess that's what happens when you're stuck with each other."

Gabriel nodded once. "I'd have thought you'd be tearing each others hair out by now, especially seeing as Dean doesn't seem the type to make friends too easily."

"You know what? He used to be," Sam admitted, savouring the fact he was finally able to be genuinely open to someone about his feelings for Dean. "He used to be so reserved, like some kind of loner, and he used to be so sad." The memory of Dean's near-constant misery hurt Sam in a way it didn't use to when his feelings for the older man weren't so strong.

"But nowadays," Sam continued, "I can see happiness in his eyes, I really can. In a really weird way, it's made me the happiest I've ever been.'

"That was always so you," Gabriel admitted.

"What?" Asked Sam.

"Sam Wesson," Gabriel explained, "saving the world one person at a time."

…

When Sam finally made it back to the ward, Dean was sat on the end of Sam's bed, reading. He looked up when Sam walked in and a grin crept across his face.

"Hey." He greeted.

Sam flopped down onto the bed on his stomach next to Dean. Dean just stared at him, funny smile still in place.

"So," began Sam, "literature, then?" He asked.

Dean shrugged and looked away, book-marking his page. "I know, a little ponce-y, right?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Not at all, I think it's great!"

It was always the genuine enthusiasm in the kids voice that always got to Dean.

"What made you think of it?" Sam continued.

"Well," began Dean, shuffling so he was sat closer to Sam, Sam suddenly became uncomfortably aware at how close they were. Sam was attracted enough to Dean when he wasn't even trying, he figured his head was going to explode now that Dean was.

"I was always the tough guy," Dean continued, "you know, big and strong, don't screw with my little brother or I'll kill you."

Sam snickered.

"I always cared way to much about what people thought about me." Dean admitted honestly, snaking out a hand to Sam.

Sam reached forward and held Dean's hand, he shivered as Dean began gently massaging the back of his hand with his thumb.

"But in here I'm not the tough guy." Dean carried on, Sam looked up to him again. "It's surprisingly liberating, and I don't really care what people think anymore because only a few opinions really matter, so I'm doing what I want."

Sam was swelling with pride. In a way, he'd sort of made Dean like this, it was like admiring your own handy work. But in another way, it was seeing the person you loved more than anyone you'd ever loved finding themselves, it was a high Sam had never experienced before.

Dean suddenly noticed how intensely Sam was staring at him and he momentarily thought that holding his hand was the wrong move until Sam reached up and with his free hand brought Dean's face down to his and pressed his lips to his.

Dean tentatively allowed himself to sink into the kiss, not wanting to come on too strong considering Sam's track record with relationships wasn't great.

Kissing Sam was like breathing, not like some trashy Vampire romance where he needed his love like air or he'd starve, but it was like second nature.

Something he could easily do for the rest of his life and not give a second thought to.

Dean was so scared that when that bubbling mass of tension finally came to a head between them it was going to be so intense it would ultimately be self-destructive.

But it wasn't, obviously Dean could feel the passion, he could feel the way he wanted Sam in a way he'd never wanted another man. But he felt like he'd loved Sam his whole life and he just couldn't quite remember it.

Dean moaned as he felt Sam's hand around his neck tighten, Sam retracted his other hand from Dean's and slid it around his neck to join his other like a vice, pulling Dean closer.

"We were so stupid," he whispered against Dean's skin. "I've wanted to do this for so long."

Dean nodded. "I know, me too." He agreed, arousal clear in his voice.

Sam clutched at Dean's neck again and smashed their lips back together. Dean could feel Sam's tongue against his lips and obligingly opened his mouth.

He heard Sam moan at the contact and it nearly made him cum in his pants like he was 13.

Dean ran his hands up Sam's back until they were clutching at his collarbone and he slowly lowered him down onto the bed, never once breaking the kiss.

Sam loved the feeling of Dean's weight on top of him, weighing him down and he finally felt like a whole person despite the fact he couldn't recall ever feeling less of one.

Sam was so caught up in the moment that he didn't notice anything was wrong, he slid his hand under Dean's t-shirt and he could feel his abs.

Dean shuddered and Sam assumed his hands must have been cold. Sam looked up in shock when Dean's mouth was gone, when the weight of his body was gone.

He looked up to see Dean straddling his hips, supporting himself on his arms with a look of concern on his face.

"Dean?" Asked Sam worriedly, sitting up as far as Dean's restricting body would let him. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Are you sure you want this?" Asked Dean, his voice was harder than Sam had expected.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

"I don't want you to do this just to...impress me or make me happy or something." He explained, voice softer now. "I mean, I get it."

"Get what?" Asked Sam, running a hand over Dean's clothed chest. Dean closed his eyes at the feeling for a moment.

"I get that you would be uncomfortable with sex," Dean explained, "after what happened."

Sam suddenly understood what Dean was trying to say and got why he couldn't say it straight. Sam hadn't even given a thought to what Gary had done to him, nothing about what was happening with Dean right now reminded him of it.

Sam was glad Dean had stopped him though, glad he had a chance to think about it before he rushed into anything. He was glad that Dean was willing to put off physical intimacy just to make sure Sam was at ease.

"Thank you," Sam said, Dean smiled at him and went to move away but Sam held onto his arms, kept him there. Being in that position and holding Dean the way he was holding him, Sam had never actually realised how big Dean was before.

"But..." Sam continued, "I can't dwell on it for the rest of my life," he grinned slightly, "it's time for me to take my own advice. I trust you," Sam admitted, "and...I want you to make love to me."

Dean merely nodded, but Sam could see his eyes were screaming as he leant down and kissed Sam softly again.

The pair were stood by the bed and tentatively began stripping their clothes until they were both stood only in boxers.

Sam finally had a chance to admire Dean's glorious body, his years of football had done him well, making him chiselled and defined and even more beautiful.

Sam was more muscular than Dean had been expecting but he was still small, Dean felt almost bad, and almost weird that he was about to have sex with a guy, but a large part of his mind didn't even care.

Dean watched as Sam walked to his bedside table and opened the bottom drawer, Dean quirked an eyebrow as he saw Sam fish out foil packets of lube and condoms.

"You come prepared?" He asked, "is there something between you and one of the male nurses I should know about?"

Sam laughed nervously, placing the items on his bed. "One of Mom's rules," he explained. "Ever since the..." he trailed off, he didn't have to say anymore.

Dean walked to Sam and kissed him slowly on the mouth, hoping to expel some of that nervousness.

He heard Sam giggling against his lips as he pulled away again, hand still cupping Sam's cheek and titling his face up to his.

"So, um..." began Dean, not sure how to word his next sentence. "How do we do this?" He asked, causing Sam to smile.

"Hey, don't laugh!" Dean protested embarrassedly.

"I want you to top me," Sam said, blushing.

Dean nodded. Despite how much he loved Sam, being the receiver on their first time might be a bit too much for him.

"You won't be at risk of catching it." Sam explained, "if you top and even if we always wear protection..." Sam babbled on.

Dean nodded seriously. "It's okay, Sammy. I trust you."

Sam nodded and tentatively sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

Dean slid his boxers down his legs and discarded them on the floor before climbing onto the bed, straddling Sam again.

Dean tried to ignore Sam staring, aware that he was already half hard and a decent size.

"Woah." Said Sam softly.

"Don't make me giggle in bed," said Dean, "it's unprofessional."

And man did that set Sam off, he must have been laughing non-stop for about ten minutes.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're useless at being sexy and seductive, do you know that?"

Sam stopped laughing and looked up at Dean, reaching out with a hand to touch his collarbone, to explore parts of Dean Winchester he hadn't got the chance to before.

Dean stared down at Sam. "Sammy, look, this is kind of my first time with a guy..."

Sam nodded, "I know, don't worry, I'll talk you through it."

Dean nodded gratefully as he leant down and captured Sam's mouth into a kiss.

He felt Sam's surprisingly strong hands wrap around his cock and begin stroking him softly, Dean moaned involuntarily into Sam's mouth as Sam's movements began to get quicker.

Dean convulsed and pulled away. "Sammy," he breathed out as he saw Sam's hand flying over his cock, it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. After another moment, Sam pulled his hand away and Dean felt suddenly empty.

His cock was now fully hard and pressed against his stomach, Dean breathed heavily for a moment.

"Is there anything you want me to do for you?" He asked, eyes dark. Sam shook his head.

Not listening, Dean reached a hand out and pulled Sam's boxers down his legs and threw them on the floor.

He stared at Sam's hard member, it was long and thick and Dean found himself wondering what that would feel like inside him.

Dean had never given a hand job before, he slowly reached out with one hand and gripped Sam's dick loosely in one hand.

"Dean," Sam breathed out as Dean began shallowly rubbing Sam's cock. The faces Sam were making were unbelievable. His eyes closed and he opened his mouth but no sounds were coming out, it was so fucking hot Dean could have stared at it all night.

After a few moments, Sam shot his hand out and stilled Dean's. "Stop, or I'm gonna come."

Dean nodded and retracted his hand.

"Can you pass me the lube?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean nodded and reached around behind him and fumbled for one of the foil packets and handed it to Sam.

Dean watched, transfixed, as Sam awkwardly ripped the packet open and drizzled some of the lube onto two of his fingers.

Dean was a complete novice to this, he had no idea what Sam was going to do.

He very nearly salivated when Sam shifted between them so he was showing his puckered, pink hole and he then reached down and began circling his entrance with his wet fingers.

Dean's eyes widened in pure arousal as he watched Sam dip a finger into himself and begin moving his hand. It wasn't long before he added a second finger, Dean watched his hole greedily swallow the two digits and saw the look of pure animalistic pleasure on Sam's face.

"Fuck, Sammy."Dean growled.

Sam opened his eyes and met Dean's. Not thinking straight, Dean took hold of Sam's hand and slowly eased it away from his ass, watching as his fingers slid, unresisting, from his dripping hole.

"Dean?" Asked Sam, but his voice came out in a whisper.

Dean ever so slowly pushed one of his own fingers against Sam's entrance and Sam arched his back, moaning. Dean tried to mimic the way Sam had moved his hand inside himself. He was so hot and tight around Dean's finger and the filthy moans spilling from Sam made his cock grow harder.

"Oh God, Dean," Sam's voice came out in a breathy moan. "God, deeper, please. Add another one."

Dean tentatively pushed another finger into Sam's quivering hole and stilled his movements, not sure what he was supposed to do.

He looked to see Sam was staring up at him, face flushed and dripping with sweat.

"Scissor your fingers," Sam explained, "open me up."

Dean began to gently make scissoring movements with his fingers, too caught up in Sam's breathy moans to care about much else.

Dean experimentally curled his fingers and Sam cried out, arching his back and curling his toes.

Dean stilled immediately. "Jesus, Sam are you all right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, prostate." He explained.

Oh.

Dean slowly pulled his fingers from Sam as Sam made an effort to sit up a little straighter. He leant around Dean and pulled a condom from behind him.

He tried to open it with shaking fingers and Dean carefully took it from him. Sam watched as Dean ripped the foil packet with his teeth, he took out the condom and rolled it down his impossibly hard cock.

Sam stared into Dean's eyes as he lowered himself back onto the bed. Dean shifted down so he was again hovering over Sam but supporting his weight on his arms so not to crush him.

There was no noise the room, just the sound of their heavy breathing. The pair couldn't look anywhere but at each other as Dean felt Sam's hand around his cock, guiding it towards his entrance.

Dean felt the tip of his cock bump against Sam's skin and he shuddered, it was so long since he'd had sex, so long since he'd even jerked off, there was something about a hospital ward that took you out of the mood.

"Are you sure?" Asked Dean one final time.

Sam nodded.

Dean slowly pushed himself forward and felt the full force of his cock breeching Sam's muscles.

Sam arched his back and scraped down Dean's back with his nails, Dean growled at the pain but it was more of a turn on than anything else.

He waited for Sam to nod again before he sank in, watching as Sam's hole swallowed all nine and a half inches of his dick.

As he got full seated he stilled completely, allowing Sam to get used to his girth. Being inside Sam was unbelievable, it was so tight he felt like his cock was going to suffocate and it was so hot...Dean was genuinely worried that he would come just by shifting.

It was the most bizarre and amazing thing he'd ever felt in equal measure, Dean genuinely found that he preferred this to all of the women he'd slept with. But then he assumed sleeping with someone you had genuine feelings for made it so much better.

Dean didn't precisely know what he was doing, he'd found Sam's prostate out of luck last time he had no idea how he was supposed to do it again.

But he knew he should stay still until Sam said it was okay for him to move. But Sam didn't say that, he didn't tell Dean he could move.

He moved himself, he jerked and twisting his hips back and Dean thought he'd die from pure feeling alone.

Sam twisted his hips to the right and moaned loudly, gasping, and Dean suddenly realised what he was doing, he was showing Dean how to move, how to please him.

Dean placed both hands on Sam's hips and stilled them, Sam opened his eyes and met Dean's.

Without saying a word, Dean pulled out slowly and plunged back in, angling his thrust to the right.

Sam sighed contentedly and leant his head back, closing his eyes again. It was one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever seen, he realised how much he wanted to do this. How much he wanted to give Sam all the pleasure in the world and see him make that face everyday. Dean had well and truly fallen, and he didn't even care.

Dean pulled out again, and thrust back in at the same angle, Sam gasped loudly and grabbed onto Dean's arms.

"Dean!" He gasped out.

Dean continued to fuck Sam slowly, with long, hard thrusts. Dean leant down and kissed Sam, hard. Swallowing his moans.

"Dean, Dean..." Sam breathed out between their kisses,"harder, please..."

Dean complied, he knew in that moment he'd do anything Sam asked him to do, he'd never felt a pleasure as intense or as erotic as this, the pressure in his cock was becoming too much, he knew he was going to come any moment.

"Sam," Dean almost whimpered, letting his head fall onto Sam's shoulder as he sharply thrusted into him faster than before, losing control of himself, hitting his sweet spot every time.

"Sammy, I'm gonna come..."

"Me too." Sam answered, a look of sweet agony on his face, Dean wrapped a hand around Sam's cock and began jerking him off in time with his thrusts, Sam cried out loudly before spurting thick, white ropes of come all over his stomach and Dean's fist.

Sam's ass clenched around Dean's cock unbelievably tightly and pushed him over the edge, Dean could feel his come filling up the condom.

Dean collapsed onto Sam, feeling his arms wrap around his waist. He could have happily stayed there forever but he felt his cock softening inside Sam.

He leant back and gently eased himself out of Sam, not wanting to cause pain to his over-sensitised skin.

As Dean slowly pulled the condom off of himself, he noticed Sam, lying on the bed, looking fucked out and covered in his own come.

It was the most surreal experience Dean had ever had.

Dean tied the condom off and threw it in the bin, collecting the tissues Sam had from his cough and wiping his cock clean, the sensation was almost painful.

Dean saw Sam smiling contented up at him as Dean leant forward and wiped the come from Sam's stomach.

Sam's face was instantly worried. "Be careful with that!" He said, "don't let it..."

"Sammy, it's okay." Dean assured him, scrunching the tissue into a ball and throwing it into the bin from the bed.

"Look, all gone."

Sam smiled. "I'm sorry, I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me," Dean assured him, lying down next to Sam. "I promise."

Sam rolled over so that his head was lying on Dean's chest, Dean slid an arm around his shoulder and held him close. They were both still naked but neither were cold, they supposed the post-coital bliss was keeping them warm,

"So," began Sam, angling his head up so he could see Dean, "was sex with a guy anything you expected?"

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Not one bit." He admitted, "anyway, it wasn't sex with a guy, it was you."

Sam stared at him for a few moments. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked.

Dean looked down at Sam. "I've honestly never enjoyed myself more."

A smile crept onto Sam's face. "Really?"

Dean nodded. "It was amazing."

"I love you," said Sam settling into Dean's chest, Dean kissed him on the forehead, he still had no idea why he couldn't say it.

Sam knew Dean hadn't said it, he knew it was the second time Dean hadn't said it, but he didn't care, he was just too damn happy.

Besides, it was obvious that Dean admitting love to anyone would take a long time even if he did feel that way.

One step at a time.

"I was so confused," Dean finally said after a while.

Sam angled his head up so he could see him, Dean's emerald eyes were wide and staring at the ceiling, he didn't look troubled, just perplexed. He knew he'd get a punch if he said it out loud, but it was one of Dean's most adorable traits. "Confused about what?" He asked.

"You," Dean answered, causing Sam to look at him quizzically. "I mean, I was so confused because I didn't think I was gay. I honestly didn't." Dean was silent for a moment, "I don't even think I am." Dean admitted finally, "I know it's a trivial thing to get caught up on but there is no other guy."

He pulled Sam closer. "I think you're just special."

Sam grinned and looked up at him. "Are you still confused now?" He asked.

Dean shook his head, "not anymore."

Sam leant up and kissed Dean slowly, it was the closest to pure happiness Dean thought he'd ever been. In that moment, the tumour, the H.I.V, the operation even his Father, it just didn't matter. He felt warm and alive and safe, he felt himself again. Sam settled down in between the crook of Dean's neck and shoulder and closed his eyes, breathing softly. Dean smiled to himself as he felt the weight from his shoulders lifting, within the next half an hour they were both asleep.

…

Dean woke up around three hours later, Sam's warm body still draped over him. Dean had never felt more comfortable or warm, but he reluctantly slid from under Sammy's body, trying not to wake him.

He crept back to his own bed and slipped under the covers, they were cold and they didn't smell like Sam.

Dean hated leaving him but he didn't want the nurses to get suspicious.

As Dean watched Sam sleeping soundly in the other bed, he was yearning to go right back over there and hold him again.

His mind wandered to all the nights he'd be able to do that, to all the freedom they'd have when they got out of here.

Dean smiled as he watched Sammy sleep. _Don't worry_ , he thought to himself. _We'll be okay_


	5. CHAPTER 5

The hospital had always been a dreary place despite everyone's effort to try and make it more homely to the patients.

Sam and Dean had always spent a lot of their time bored or trying to think up ways to keep themselves entertained.

Dean remembered how he was so concerned about getting lost but now he knew every inch of the entire hospital by heart. He knew most of the Doctor's and Nurses on a first name basis and he even had a pretty good friendship with the guy who came in to play music for the hospice.

Sam and Dean had absolutely run out of things to do, that was, until they became sexual involved.

Sam had opened up a whole knew world of excitement and pleasure Dean would have never known otherwise, pleasing Sam became Dean's favourite past time, and Sam had no qualms with it.

Whenever they were eating with their families, Dean loved to do things to Sam under the table and watch him blush, then as soon as they were alone Sam would pounce on him and kiss him like he didn't know what air was.

They were always careful, considering not only could Dean be in serious danger if they weren't, but Sam was still suffering with Pneumonia, although he was getting so much better it was barely recognisable.

Dean was sure some of the Nurses must be getting suspicious but no one said anything, Dean liked to assume it was because they were both dying and everyone felt sorry for them. The idea made him chuckle.

They'd both mutually decided they'd not tell their families until they were both out of there, which made sense because they both had Mother's who would worry constantly, plus it made Dean blush just thinking about what Gabriel would say to them.

But that didn't stop them from doing whatever they wanted when they were alone, fortunately for the Winchester, their relationship had become Sam's favourite pass-time as well.

Dean shifted around in bed, he was hovering in that bizarre place between being awake and being asleep, but he could swear he felt something...but he couldn't be sure if he was dreaming or not. Dean was famed for his weird dreams, he'd had them ever since his Dad died.

Dean opened his eyes in a shot as he definitely felt something brush against his thigh.

He looked to his side, breathing heavily from his harsh awakening, to see Sam grinning at him like a cheshire cat.

"Sammy?" Asked Dean, confused.

The persistent brushing against his thigh continued and Dean looked down to his covered crotch, he suddenly understood what was going on.

He rolled his eyes. "Sam, you scared the shit out of me."

"I assure you that was not my intention." Sam pouted.

Dean laughed and pulled Sam towards him by his shirt and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"How are you feeling today?" Dean asked, so close to Sam that his warm breath was ghosting over Sam's skin.

Sam shivered slightly. "Better than yesterday, I had a bit of a coughing fit earlier, but nothing major."

"What about your lungs?" Asked Dean, "do they still feel heavy like you described?"

Sam shrugged slightly, Dean noticed he'd been doing that a lot lately, it never occurred to him that he probably got it from him.

"Just part of the illness." He said, but he could see the concern in Dean's eyes.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't feel up to it."

Sam shook his head. "No, I feel up to it."

Dean had to admit, Sam was looking a lot healthier, he wasn't as pale as he had been and he wasn't bedridden like he had been for a few days, much to his dismay.

Dean merely nodded and kissed Sam again. He was addicted to kissing Sam, he didn't know what was wrong with him, but his lips tasted like a combination of his first sneaky beer and his favourite food and the best smell in the world all rolled into one.

Like everything Dean loved existed on Sam's lips for him.

Dean made a little noise as he felt Sam's hand on his thigh go southward.

"Sam." He said, voice coming out half-warning, half-growling.

Sam merely giggled and took hold of Dean's rapidly hardening cock through his boxers. Dean gasped quietly as Sam began to rub him.

"You're too good at that." Dean choked out.

After a moment, Dean pushed Sam's hand away. "You're gonna make me come in my pants like some school kid." He said, answering Sam's perplexed look.

Sam grinned. "That would be pretty hot."

Dean shook his head and shoved Sam gently down onto the bed under him, pleased at his hard member. "You're insatiable." He growled.

"I love it when you use big words." Sam whispered, feigning a wispy voice that made Dean want to laugh more than anything else.

He made a mental note to teach the kid how to seduce one day, but then he questioned himself. He worked a charm on Dean already, and since Dean had no plans on letting him seduce anyone else so long as he was around, it occurred to him the kids hilarious awkwardness would do just fine.

"What?" Asked Sam, eyes questioning.

"What?" Asked Dean, confused.

"You completely zoned out," Sam pointed out, "I guess I'm not as irresistible as you lead me to believe."

Dean shook his head as he tucked one of Sam's chocolate locks behind his ear. "One day I will punch you."

"I keep waiting for it, but it never comes."

Dean growled playfully as he kissed Sam in earnest. Sam laughed against his lips as he pushed a hand down Dean's underwear and grabbed Dean's cock again.

Dean grabbed a handful of Sam's clinical pants and shoved them down his legs until they were pooled around his ankles.

Dean pushed up until he was between Sam's legs and his cock was pressed deliciously against Sam's ass.

Sam stared up at Dean, eyes hooded with lust. "Do it." He said.

Dean cupped Sam's face in his own and kissed him, Sam pushed a hand through Dean's short hair, loving the friction against his hand...

"Morning boys."

Dean shot off Sam in a second, Sam immediately pulled Dean's covers around himself to cover his naked crotch.

Dean watched in shock at Doctor Singer's back, facing away from them and picking something up from the floor. "How are you two this morning?"

Dean stared at Sam, swollen lips wide and eyes full of confusion. Doctor Singer hadn't seen them.

"Err, fine." Dean answered a little louder than usually, praying Doctor Singer couldn't hear his adrenalin-fuelled breathing.

Doctor Singer turned to them and frowned. He was used to seeing them on the same bed, Dean's breath hitched.

"Sam, you look flushed." He began worriedly, "are you okay?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah, I...my breathing...it was hard to breath earlier so I just crawled into Dean's bed, tried to calm myself."

Doctor Singer nodded seriously. "That's only to be expected, Pneumonia takes a long time to recover from."

Sam nodded. "Of course."

"But," Doctor Singer continued, "you're recovering remarkably well, I think you'll make an excellent recovery."

Dean sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God." He said quietly.

"Anyway," Doctor Singer continued, "I came in here to tell you, Dean, that you've got a brain x-ray at 3pm."

"Oh," said Dean, "what for?"

"These x-rays will determine the procedure in which your tumour will be removed." He explained.

Dean looked down immediately at the mention of his upcoming operation, Sam longed to reach out and hold his hand.

"Will they have to...open my head?" Dean asked eventually, not sure how to word it.

"If you would rather this information remain confidential...?"

Dean shook his head. "Sam can hear this."

Doctor Singer nodded. "Well, in that case, I highly doubt it. I suspect the only removal will need to be taken from your spine, but if it arises that the removal has to continue to your brain, that is where the risks will come from."

Dean nodded, it made sense. Don't screw with the brain, that was his downfall.

Doctor Singer smiled at them before leaving the ward.

Sam stared at Dean, on a normal occasion the pair would have probably laughed, but instead, Sam sat up and hugged Dean like his life depended on it.

Dean hugged him back, he couldn't help himself. He tried not to scare himself, he couldn't change whatever was going to happen. But he'd promised the kid in his arms he wouldn't leave.

…

Dean knew his Mom was scared. He wasn't an idiot and she couldn't fool him, her biggest tell was when she started treating Dean like he was 5 years old again.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" She asked again for the umpteenth time and Dean smiled.

He looked up to his Mother, obviously nervous and wringing her hands around. Dean wished she would stop, she was scaring Cas.

Dean felt the little hand of his Brother tug on his shirt sleeve from where he was sitting in Dean's lap.

Dean looked down to Cas's worry filled eyes. "What's wrong with Mommy?" He asked.

Dean shot his Mom a stern look although he couldn't really blame her. "Nothing," Dean said, "she's just fine."

Cas nodded, although there was doubt, his six year old logic couldn't fight with Dean. It was the hardest part, how in the hell was Dean supposed to explain to Cas that he might not be here next week?

He couldn't bring himself to it, he couldn't bring himself to put Cas through what he'd gone through when his Father had died.

Mary sat down next to the pair of them on the bed, trying to smile.

"Dean," she began, "can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

Dean momentarily thought about declining but thought better about it.

"Sure," he said, "Cassy, do you mind if I leave for a moment?"

Cas shook his head dutifully and climbed from Dean's lap.

"Sammy, do you mind watching Cas for a moment?"

Sam looked up from the book he was reading across the room. "Sure." He said.

Dean smiled at him and got a dazzling smile in return before he hopped from his bed and followed his Mother out of the room.

"Mom, are you all right?" He asked worriedly.

She nodded slightly, "yeah, yeah fine. What about you?"

Dean angled his head in thought. "I've had some things to take my mind off of it."

Mary nodded, "that's good." She said, "it's good you have a distraction."

"Well, Doctor Singer is pretty confident so I trust that."

Mary's lips pulled up into a half-smile despite everything. "There's been such a change in you, Dean." She admitted, "you just seem happier lately, it's good to see. Sam's obviously been good to you."

Dean tried not to smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

Mary looked like she wanted to say he was lucky, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. But Dean was lucky, he was a lot luckier than most people and he was only just beginning to see it.

"How is Sam doing?" Mary asked. "I wanted to ask but I didn't want to intrude."

"Oh, he's fine," said Dean, and Mary couldn't help but notice the proud little smile playing on his lips. "I mean, he still coughs and he still has a sore chest, but he's so much better. Doctor Singer said most Pneumonia cases are fatal, you remember Uncle Jack, so apparently the fact he's not bed-bound is a good sign."

"That's good." Said Mary, nodding. She looked at Dean seriously.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

Dean sighed. "I'm...I'm scared every day," he admitted, "but that doesn't matter, what happens, happens and I'll always be grateful for everything you've ever done for me."

Mary nodded and hugged Dean tightly. "I love you, Dean. You're my baby, you and Cas are my biggest achievements, you're exactly the man your Dad would want you to be,"

Dean hugged his Mother back and felt the tears pricking at his eyes, but for once in his life he wasn't mad at himself for it. He liked to think that if in some crazy world his Dad was looking down on him, he'd see he did the best with what he had.

"I love you too, Mom."

…

Sam was laying against Dean's stomach, entwining his fingers with Dean's whilst Dean absent-mindedly stroked his hair.

"You're far away again." Sam noted, loud enough so it would breach Dean's personal space.

"Hmm?" Asked Dean, like he'd just woken up. "What?"

"You were day dreaming," Sam continued, feeling Dean's hot palm against his own. "I can tell. You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"

Sam heard Dean sigh behind him. "It's kind of hard not to think about it."

Sam pursed his lips, he couldn't argue but he couldn't stand to see Dean this way.

"I'll try and take your mind off it," Sam finally decided.

Dean laughed, "what are you gonna do, river dance?"

Sam giggled, "I could try."

"Okay," began Dean, shifting them slightly so he could see Sam's face. "I'll bite, try and distract me."

Sam smiled. "All right, how about this; think about all the stuff we're gonna be able to do when we get out of here."

Dean snorted. "What, come out to our families? Annoy your Brother by making out in front of him?"

"No," Sam pouted, shoving Dean playfully but gently in the ribs.

Dean heard Sam cough but he didn't bring him up on it.

"No, I mean the freedom we're going to have, we'll be able to do anything we want."

Dean grinned to himself. "I can take you out on proper dates."

"Exactly," said Sam, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "We could go the Cinema, or the Library and we can both study and get the awesome jobs we want."

Dean smiled. "You can meet Rusty." He said.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in amused confusion. "What?" He asked.

Dean laughed quietly to himself. "He's Cas's cat, he loves cats, he's always coming out with random cat facts. But the cat has to live with my Aunt Jane."

"Why?" Asked Sam.

"I have a cat allergy." Dean explained.

"Huh," said Sam. "You never said."

Dean shrugged, "it never exactly came up in conversation before."

Sam chuckled to himself. "That's true." He angled his head up to look at Dean again. "You can show off your mad football skills."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Knowing my luck, I'll probably break my other arm."

"You've been having pretty good luck lately." Sam pointed out lightly.

"That's true," Dean agreed, mirroring Sam's earlier words before kissing him lightly on the side of the forehead. "What would I do without you?" He asked rhetorically.

"Probably break your other arm." Sam replied seriously, cocking his head to the side.

"Don't get cocky with me, little one." Said Dean jokingly.

Sam twisted his head around to Dean and raised an eyebrow. "Or what?" He challenged, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Dean grinned, he'd not seen Sam's playful side before. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sides.

Dean twisted their bodies carefully until Sam was lying underneath him. Dean kissed Sam's neck and grinned to himself at the needy little moan he heard spill from Sam's mouth.

Dean moved down the younger man's body and pushed his shirt up so it was at his neck line.

"Dean...?" Began Sam, but he was cut off when Dean pressed his hot mouth to Sam's cool skin.

Dean continued to leave fluttering kisses along Sam's stomach, breathing in Sam's unique smell and loving the sounds he made when Dean nipped along his flesh.

Dean wanted to worship every inch of Sam's body for the rest of his life, it was just so amazing.

Sam was beautiful and perfect in every way, every moment Dean spent kissing his skin and holding his body was one more moment he should have never been allowed.

Sam had well and truly saved Dean's life, the fact that he had a tumour didn't mean anything.

Dean knew exactly where he'd be without Sam, he'd be cold and alone and dying and wishing he wasn't alive in the first place.

Dean had never felt it before because he'd always been in the middle of it, but looking back on his darkest days, he could feel how much it had hurt, and how much he would give to survive this operation so he could carry on.

He lifted his lips from Sam's skin and he met his dark eyes, cheeks flushed.

"You're going to be the end of me." Oh the irony.

Dean smiled as he climbed up Sam's body until their lips met in a kiss filled with such pure love Dean was sure if anyone walked in they could probably see it.

"You all right?" Dean asked, grinning like a cat that had just got the cream. "You look a little flushed."

"I'm hot." Said Sam.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, that one's obvious."

Dean could see the smile creep across Sam's face. "No, I mean I'm hot."

Dean turned to the window and saw the bright sunlight streaming in.

"Why didn't you say so?" He said, hopping off of the bed. Which, in hindsight, wasn't the best move as he stumbled a little.

He held a hand out to Sam, "let's go outside for a bit."

…

Dean looked at the daisies on the grass, he remembered his daisy chain slowly wilting in his drawer, he smiled slightly to himself.

"You all right?"

Dean turned to Sam, his head was cocked to the side and he was staring inquisitively at Dean.

Dean smiled. "I'm good, Sammy."

Sam laughed embarrassedly and his eyes hit the ground. "Sorry, I...I never know when something is wrong, or when you're just...looking at something, I don't know."

Dean smiled despite himself, "don't worry, I get it. I'll be falling on my face soon enough."

Sam laughed, loudly, even though he knew he shouldn't. "I'm sorry," Sam laughed, "I shouldn't be laughing, that's awful."

"Well," began Dean, "I want us to get to a place in our lives where we can just laugh at this, where it'll just be a distant memory."

Sam wasn't laughing anymore. "Dean, no matter what I do, I'm always going to have this."

Dean nodded. "I know, and you're always going to have me." He put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "We're gonna get through this."

Sam leant forward and kissed Dean softly, Dean smiled against Sam's lips.

"Hey faggots, get a room!"

Dean turned immediately to the source of the noise, he looked over to see the man who was yelling at him, young and stood next to an elderly woman in a wheel chair, a Grandmother, no doubt.

"Josh Gibson." Said Dean quietly to himself.

"What?" Asked Sam, red-faced, but Dean was already walking towards the youth. When he saw Dean's face, his eyes widened in shock.

"Winchester?!" He exclaimed, "what the hell are you doing here?!"

Dean smiled slightly although there was no humour in his face. "Sick, Josh. It's a bit obvious."

"Jesus, Winchester." He said, spying Sam behind Dean. "You were the toughest guy I knew, I never put you down as a fucking faggot."

"Watch your language," Dean began immediately in a hard voice, cold rage in his eyes. "There are sick people here."

At this, however, Josh began to laugh. "Yeah, and you're one of them."

Dean raised an unamused eyebrow. "That funny, Gibson?" He asked.

"Dean," began Sam, tugging at his arm.

"Yeah, it's funny," Josh said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It is now I know your a God damn cocksucker!"

Dean eyes narrowed.

"And that your queer little boyfriend is in here, too! That's classic!"

Although Josh didn't have enough time to laugh before Dean's fist collided with his jaw, despite his condition it seemed Dean was still strong enough to deal out a great deal of damage.

Sam shouted out in alarm as Josh's body hit the ground, he grabbed at Dean's arm again. Dean turned to him with a look of almost shock on his face, like he hadn't realised what he'd done.

"Dean, are you...?" Before Sam could finish his sentence, Josh was on top of him and pulling him to the ground. Dean let out a surprised yelp at the unexpected attack.

Sam watched in horror for a split second, it was one thing to be a homophobic ass, in fact that was almost normal, but attacking a person in a hospital was a whole new kind of low Sam had never seen before, and it took him a moment to act.

He watched the pair scrapping on the ground and moved to pull the homophobe off of Dean but he wasn't strong enough.

It wasn't long before a male Nurse and a female Doctor were pulling the man from Dean and hustling him in the other direction.

"Shame on you!" An elderly man in the clinical white spat at Josh Gibson as hospital security turned up and took him away.

"Dean, are you okay?" Asked the male Nurse, the one Dean had tried to check out the other day, pulling Dean to his feet.

"Yeah," answered Dean, a little flustered, he normally would not have accepted help.

"Did you know that kid?" He asked.

Dean nodded, "yeah, he was on my football team, his name is Josh Gibson."

The Nurse nodded to Dean and checked him over before heading to the hospital security.

As soon as he had gone, Dean met the worried face of Sam staring at him.

"Sammy, I'm sorry..." began Dean, but Sam had already thrown his arms around Dean's neck and was hugging him fiercely.

Still a little dazed, Sam led Dean back into the hospital, all the way other patients, some Dean knew, some he didn't, asked after his health and told him of their disgust at Josh's behaviour.

Dean smiled gratefully but inside he felt hollow, what those people had all missed was how it was his fault. He could handle anything anyone could throw at him but them Josh had to bring Sam into it.

Dean had lost himself for a moment and actually hit him. Whilst Dean was strong and people generally knew he wasn't to be messed with he never hurt people, that wasn't him.

It wasn't the person he wanted Sammy to think he was, either.

…

"Sam, will you leave me be?" Dean huffed as he felt the cold compress against the swelling side of his nose again.

"Will you shut up and let me help you?" Asked Sam rhetorically, authority clear in his voice.

Dean huffed again but dutifully closed his mouth. Sam pressed the compress against Dean's nose again and the older man winced.

Sam retracted the compress immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

Dean shook his head. "Doesn't hurt, it's just cold."

Sam shook his head, trying not to smile. "You're quite the wimp when someone gets to know you."

Dean scowled and this time Sam did laugh. "I'm sorry, it's not funny."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're doing that a lot today."

Sam shook his head again and pressed the compress to Dean but he batted it away.

"Cas would be less fuss."

"Where the hell did you even get a first aid kit from?" Dean asked.

"Brian gave it to me." He explained, re-wetting the compress.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Brian?" He asked.

Sam nodded, "yeah, the Nurse who works here."

"Oh, the one I hit on." Said Dean without thinking, he looked at Sam's confused face and laughed.

"Whilst it's good to hear you finally laugh," began Sam, "you're hitting on the Nurses?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "No, it's a long story."

Sam shrugged. "Come on, let me take the swelling down on your nose."

Dean nodded and stayed still, allowed Sam to work. Sam relished in the opportunity, normally Dean would have pushed him away and kept him away.

"Did you say you used to play with that dick?" Asked Sam.

Among other things, Dean found himself smiling. Sam barely ever swore, and when he did it was when they were having sex, he found it highly erotic among other things, but hearing it in normal conversation was only when he was mad.

Dean refrained from nodding so as not to ruin Sam's work preserving his face. "Yeah, ironically he was a tight end."

Sam giggled for a minute before lowering the compress and staring into Dean's eyes. Dean almost hated when Sam did that, it was like he was undressing his soul.

"Sammy, I'm sorry." Began Dean.

Sam's eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For that," said Dean, gesturing redundantly. "For starting that, I mean, you know I did." Dean paused for a moment, searching for the words. "I hit him and I shouldn't have, that's not who I am."

Sam smiled and cupped Dean's face with his free hand. "I was there, Dean. You only reacted when he brought me into it, I love you for it."

Dean smiled shallowly, no words to respond.

"Plus, you keep forgetting I know you." Sam continued. "I know you act all tough and hard, but you're like a jelly baby."

"Jelly baby?" Asked Dean.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, hard on the outside, soft on the inside. My Dads' the same." Sam paused for a moment. "I want to give you everything I have, I want to make my mark on that soft spot."

"You all ready have." Dean admitted, "just by being here."

Sam grinned devilishly. "Well, I could sweeten the deal?"

Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion before Sam gently pushed on Dean's collarbone.

Understanding, Dean lowered himself back onto the bed and allowed Sam to climb on top of him, placing his hands on Sam's hips, Dean watched as the younger man leant down and placed a soft kiss to his injured nose, Dean winced before Sam touched him.

The contact was so soft, however, it didn't hurt at all.

"You don't have to do anything." Said Dean.

But Sam wasn't listening, before Dean could protest any further, Sam had slid down his body and taken his pants with him.

"Sammy..." Dean half-yelled out of shock. "What are you doing?"

"My duties as a good boyfriend." Sam replied.

Boyfriend. Dean thought to himself, he closed his eyes.

He immediately opened them when he felt Sam's lips wrap around him.

"Jesus Christ!" He shouted and heard the muffled sounds of Sam laughing beneath him.

Dean looked down with pure arousal in his eyes, he caught Sam's gaze and kept him there. He didn't think he'd be able to look away if he tried.

Dean watched as Sam's tongue worked it's way lightly around his cock, Dean threw his head back in pure bliss.

Whatever annoyance he had for the incident with Josh was completely forgotten as he sunk into the most incredible pleasure he'd ever felt.

He'd been blown by a few girls before, but all they seemed to care about was him seeing them do it, and to fit as much of his cock into their mouths as they could.

Sam used his tongue and he seemed to only be concentrating on Dean's pleasure, he'd spent most of his teenage years wondering why everyone loved getting their cocks sucked because it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

But now he could see that it was, and more.

Dean could feel Sam tonguing the slit on his head and Dean's eyes rolled back in his head, he forced himself to look at Sam.

Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair but he didn't tug, Sam was still sick, after all. Sam moaned erotically around him and Dean shivered at the sensation.

"Sammy..." Dean breathed out, voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to...I'm going to come..."

Sam's ministrations only became more persistent as Sam took most of Dean's cock into his mouth and the suction around his sensitized flesh was too much for him.

Dean could feel his cock spurting come directly down Sam's throat and Sam hummed in contentment.

Sam released Dean from his mouth with a light pop and climbed back up his body to meet him, he kissed him softly and Dean could taste himself on Sam's lips, it was a bizarre and strangely erotic.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come..."

Sam shook his head, smiling. "I enjoyed it."

Dean sat up and pulled Sam into his still naked lap, Sam was still smiling.

"That was amazing," he admitted, "you have a lot to teach me."

Sam grinned at him and coughed behind his hand.

Dean looked worriedly at him. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, "yeah, don't worry, it's nowhere near as bad as it was, I'll be all right soon."

Dean had to admit Sam was right, when he'd first been diagnosed with Pneumonia, he'd been bed-bound for a few days and he was constantly pale and in pain, but now he seemed so much brighter.

Dean just knew he was going to make it through this, it was just who Sam was.

"Those first few days," Dean admitted, "when they didn't want you moving...and when you kept going in and out of consciousness in your sleep...you scared the crap out of me."

Sam smiled sadly and stroked Dean's hair. "That's behind us now, I'm gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine..."

And there it was again, the operation. The operation that would be happening tomorrow. The operation that would determine whether Dean would live or die.

"I'm scared, Sammy." He half-whispered.

Sam searched his eyes for a long moment before hugging Dean tightly. "I know, Dean. I'm scared, too."

Dean certainly wasn't expecting that. Knowing that Sam, of all people, was scared didn't much help his nerves.

"But..." Sam continued, bringing him out of his reverie and facing him. "You're going to be fine, I know it."

Dean cocked his head to the side. "How can you be scared and know I'm going to be fine?"

Sam shrugged. "Sixth sense, I suppose."

"Well, I just hope you're right, Sammy. We've got a great life ahead of us, I can't check out now."

"You really think we'll be together for the rest of our lives?" Asked Sam softly.

Dean nodded seriously. "Yeah, I do. I mean, if you want me."

Sam shook his head and hugged Dean again. "Of course I want you, you big idiot. You're the fucking love of my life."

Dean laughed into Sam's shoulder. Not only had he found the love of his life in Sam, he'd also found his best friend.

And, in the weirdest way possible; his salvation.

…

Dean barely slept that night, no matter how much he tried he just couldn't drift off. Falling asleep felt too much like dying and his brain was so sensitive he couldn't take it.

Sam held him all night, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and trying to keep him calm, nothing worked.

Dean couldn't feel calm, it wasn't possible. He was going to have his fate decided for him and he didn't know whether or not he deserved it.

In a way, the way he felt about himself before he met Sam was an easier way of living. He knew he was nothing and he needed to die and he was completely blind to all the things he was missing.

But now, it was hard. He didn't need to die, he didn't feel like nothing any more. Plus, if he died tomorrow it wasn't just Sam he'd be losing, it was his Mom and Cas, the people he'd sworn to his Father he would protect, he couldn't lose them. But more importantly, he couldn't leave them behind.

People needed him, people had always needed him and he just couldn't see it.

But he could see it now, it wasn't his time.

But, as usual, it wasn't in his control. As much as he hated not being in control there were still some things he could do, he could still hope.

…

Doctor Singer walked Dean down to the operating theatre the next morning with Sam, Mary and Cas in tow.

Dean was holding Cas, he'd asked his Mom if he could and she didn't deny him. Cas kept asking where they were going.

Sam told him they were going for a walk and he seemed satisfied.

If he died today, Cas would hate Dean for that when he was old enough to understand, that alone was more pain to Dean that this tumour could ever cause him.

When they reached the waiting area for the operating theatre, there were other families sat there. Some looking bored, others wringing their hands together.

Some looked at Sam and Dean, wondering which one it would be, the thought made Dean blush.

"Dean," Doctor Singer began gently, Dean looked up to the man. "I'm going to give you some time with your family." He didn't say and friend, he didn't class Sam as his friend, he actually got it.

Dean nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Singer." He tried a smile.

Doctor Singer nodded and was out of the room.

It was a good three hours until it was finally Dean's time. The family spent their time sitting, talking, laughing.

Mary tried her best to distract Dean but Cas was doing a fine job all by himself. As Cas told Dean of all the things he was missing back home, and how his teachers kept taking him out of class to make sure he was okay with Dean being in hospital, Dean instantly hated them for it.

He was just a kid and they didn't care. It was like Dean had said before, dying made him interesting.

Dean thought about the sort of man Cas would be when he grew up, how he'd be handsome and smart, and how much Dean prayed to God he would be spared the patented Winchester male bad luck.

"Dean Winchester," a Nurse said kindly, approaching them. "We're ready for you now."

Dean nodded solemnly as he stood, and his family stood with him.

They walked directly out of the waiting room and into a small corridor with 3 doors, Dean assumed an operating theatre must be behind each door.

His heart momentarily went out to the other poor souls behind those doors.

"If I could ask your family to wait in the waiting room until the procedure is over," the Nurse said kindly.

"Yes, of course." Said Mary, sounding flustered but unwilling to leave.

Dean knelt down to Cas's level and took the little boys hands in his own.

"Castiel," he said, "I absolutely love you with all of my heart, you're the best Brother I could have ever hoped for."

From a distance, Sam felt his heart breaking watching the transaction. He turned his head slightly, feeling like an intruder on a private family moment.

"Love you, Dean." Cas replied happily. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's little body, thinking about when he'd be just as big and strong, stronger than Dean could ever be.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see the tears spilling from his face.

Dean stood up, shaking. "Sam..." he began, "can you take Cas?" His voice was shaking, too.

"Of course." Said Sam immediately. He walked forward and took Cas's hand.

"Come on, Cas, come with me."

Dean watched as they both disappeared back into the waiting room, and before he knew it, his Mother was hugging him so tightly he didn't think she knew how to let go.

"I love you so much, Dean," she was saying, "whatever happens today, you'll always be my baby boy, I'm always going to be so proud of you."  
"I know, Mom." Dean replied, tears stinging his eyes.

When they pulled apart, she had tears glistening in her eyes.

"Mom," began Dean slowly, "if I don't make it..."

"Don't talk like that."

"Mom, I'm being serious. If I don't make it, can you please make sure Cas knows I loved him more than anything? And everything I ever said or did was for him, and I didn't want to go."

The tears were cascading down Mary's face like a never ending waterfall. She merely nodded, kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heel and left, face in her hands.

Dean turned around to try and find the Nurse but she wasn't there. She must have left to give them some privacy. He leant against the wall and waited for her to come back.

It was that moment, however, that Sam walked back into the corridor.

"Hey," he said, his voice sounded strangely hollow.

"Hey," Dean replied.

Sam walked awkwardly to him. "How are you feeling?"

Dean shrugged. "Like shit, I guess."

Sam and Dean stared at each other for a long moment before Sam surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, Dean hugged him back just as tightly.

"Oh God," began Sam, "oh God, Dean, I'm so scared."

Dean could hear his voice shaking. Sam was so old and wise in some ways that Dean often forgot he was still just a kid, a kid who probably hadn't lost anyone yet.

Dean had been surrounded by family deaths since he was young but Sam didn't have it in his eyes.

Sam was too young to be exposed to this sort of thing. Part of Dean was grateful Sam was a part of his life, but the other part of him hated himself for it.

"I love you." Sam breathed against his skin.

"I know." Dean replied, and it almost broke Sam's heart that he didn't say it, but Dean was frightened, it would be the last thing he would be thinking of.

Sam pulled away from Dean but kept them close, he put a hand on Dean's cheek and the pair just stared at each other for a long moment.

They both didn't speak because they didn't have to, it was such an unspoken moment of true Human connection that it didn't need speech.

Dean leant forward and kissed Sam, it wasn't hot or passionate it was pure needing.

The most intense kiss they had ever shared.

"Sam, Dean?" Came a soft voice from the other side of the corridor.

The kiss ended softly and they turned to see Gabriel standing there, the kiss apparently meant nothing to him and he looked over them reassuringly.

"Mom wanted me to come and get you," Gabriel said softly to Sam, "to make sure you weren't alone."

"Oh." Said Sam.

Gabriel looked at Dean. "Good luck, man."

Dean nodded at him, it was all the communication they needed.

"Mr Winchester?" Dean turned to see the same Nurse from earlier leaning out of the door to one of the operating theatres and smiling at him.

"We're ready for you now."

Dean followed her in, never losing eye contact with Sam until the door was shut behind him.

Sam's eyes hit the floor and that was when the first tear fell from his eyes.

"Sammy," Gabriel began, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. The word hurt, it was Dean's nickname. "Are you all right?"

Sam nodded mechanically but he knew Gabriel understood.

"Come on," Gabriel carried on softly, "we should go."

Sam shook himself from Gabriel's grasp, moving like he wasn't in control of his own body.

"No, no, Gabe. I...I want to stay."

"Sammy, you can't stay..."

Sam shook his head, more tears falling from his eyes. "Please Gabriel, I need to stay, please let me stay."

Gabriel looked at his younger Brother, dealt such a terrible hand in life he didn't deserve this, too.

"You really love this guy, don't you?" He asked.

Sam nodded silently.

After a few moments consideration, Gabriel nodded. "Okay, but, promise me if anything happens or if you need us, you'll come."

Sam nodded again, not trusting his voice. Gabriel hugged Sam softly before turning and leaving.

Sam leant against the wall and slid against it until he was on the floor, he didn't have any strength left in his legs.

…

When Dean walked into the room, the first thing he noticed, not the bed or the heavy duty heart monitor, but Doctor Singer standing at the side of the room.

"Doctor Singer?" Dean asked, momentarily taken away from his fear. "What..."

"I told you I'd be here," he said, "please, call me Bobby."

This thought didn't have the desired effect on Dean, it only made him feel worse. Being on a first name basis with Doctor Singer meant that he suspected something was going to happen, Dean nodded nonetheless.

"Thank you for everything you've done, Bobby."

Bobby Singer nodded. "It's been my privilege."

"Mr Winchester?"

Dean saw a man approaching him, covered in white.

"My name is Doctor Ben Fielder, I'll be your surgeon today." He spoke softly, but there was a southern drawl in his words.

Dean nodded.

Doctor Fielder instructed Dean to get onto the bed and lie back, which Dean did dutifully, but he could feel his heart beating inside his mouth so loudly the others in the room must have heard it too.

"Now, Mr Winchester, I'm going to place you under local anaesthetic, have you ever received this before?"

Dean shook his head.

"Well, it will feel just like a falling asleep, and when you wake up, although you may feel disoriented, it will feel like no time has passed."

If I wake up, a snide voice in the back of Dean's head said.

Dean watched in abject horror as the Nurses hooked him up to pieces of various equipment he couldn't even name.

Dean's breathing was becoming shallower and he momentarily thought he might be having a panic attack for the first time in his life.

Bobby apparently sensed his discomfort. "Doctor Fielder has performed this operation many times." He said.

Doctor Fielder nodded. "Yes, while a certain number of risks represent themselves in your condition, Mr Winchester, I'm fairly sure everything will be fine."

Dean didn't even have time to get his thoughts together before a Nurse walked forward, brandishing an Oxygen mask like an axe.

"Dean, I'm just going to put this over your mouth..."

Dean wanted to bolt from the room, he wanted to find Sam and run away and never come back, he didn't want to die, he wasn't ready. He didn't deserve it.

Dean tried to calm his breathing as she slipped the mask straps over his head and fastened the mask securely around his mouth.

He tried to concentrate on all of the good things in his life, all the things that had kept him going.

He thought about Cas's first birthday, how much he'd swelled with pride.

He thought about his Dad, about being sent to this hospital, every time he'd fallen over or got a headache and every time it had hurt.

Then he thought about Sam, about seeing his face for the first time and having no idea. He thought about being inside Sam, he thought about every time they'd kissed. He thought about how much pain Sam had been when he'd first got Pneumonia and how much he needed Dean to be there for him.

"Count down backwards from ten, Mr Winchester."

Dean began to count inside his head, the silent countdown sided by all the surging thoughts going through his mind.

Every time Sam had told him he loved him.

Every time Sam had told him he needed him.

Every time Sam had told him they were going to be okay.

Dean's eyes were closed before he reached one.

…

Sam couldn't stop crying. He tried so hard to be strong and to be brave but it just wasn't happening.

This was the side to Sam Wesson that no one ever saw, not even Dean.

The side that cried and wailed and worried like hell.

That didn't mean everything he had ever said to Dean was a lie, it was all true, all of it.

But Sam couldn't stop his mind from being honest, for accepting there were some things medical science couldn't cure.

Sam believed, truly believed will all of his heart that Dean would be okay, that all his fear and worry would be behind him, but he couldn't stop that nagging voice in the back of his head just going but what if...?

What if Dean really died?

What the hell was Sam supposed to do?

He couldn't even remember the life he'd had before Dean was in it, he didn't have one. He'd never felt like he was alone before Dean came along but now he could feel it, and he didn't want to be alone again.

Dean couldn't just walk into his life, change everything in him and then go. It wasn't fair.

People like Dean just didn't exist, not really. You never found them, but Sam had and he wasn't ready to let it go. He promised himself in that moment that if Dean made it, he would never let him know he'd cried like this.

Dean had to make it, because if he died, he'd be taking Sam with him.


	6. CHAPTER 6

Dean Winchester woke up.

The ceiling was blurry above him, he couldn't quite make out what was going on but...he was awake.

"Dean?" One the Nurses voices suddenly came out of nowhere, the voice sounded high and bubbly, like someone was speaking under water.

Dean made a noise close to a grumble and tried to lift his head but it felt so heavy.

He heard the noises of people talking above him, they felt right next to him but at the same time a million miles away.

He couldn't remember why he was here.

"Dean?" Came the same voice suddenly, clearer this time. "Dean, are you okay?"

"What's going on?" Dean asked in a groggy voice.

"Dean, you've just woken up from being under local anaesthetic, you may feel disorientated but your operation was a success."

Ah, that was it. Dean had an operation, but he couldn't remember what the hell for...he tried to think but it hurt his head.

It took him a moment to feel that the pain in his head was genuine, it really did hurt.

"Ow," he said quietly to himself.

"Dean, are you able to sit up?"

Very carefully, Dean sat up, supporting himself on his hands.

"My head hurts..." he said out loud.

He vaguely saw the person who'd been talking, a Woman, nodding.

Dean's focus began to come back slowly and the room he was in became clearer. It was a simple white room, so much white, with various people walking about, most of them checking on him.

Dean realised he was lying in a hospital bed, and it felt like...

It hit him, he remembered what he was doing here.

The operation, Dean had come in for the operation to remove his tumour. He looked around, everything seemed normal and he was in the hospital, he was sure of it.

"Did they get it?" He asked the Nurse hovering over him. "Is is gone?"

She nodded. "Yep, it's gone."

Dean felt a wave of intense relief swim through his body, his whole being went cold as the chills ran through him and he had to close his eyes for a few moments to process everything.

He was fairly sure this wasn't a dream, it all seemed real.

It was gone, the tumour was gone.

Dean felt all the fear and pain that had been building up for months leave him.

The tumour was gone, Sam was right. He'd hoped and it had been all right, he was okay.

…

Sam was on Dean before he'd even seen him coming, Dean recoiled in pain when Sam's arms made contact with the back of his neck, still sore from where they'd cut it.

"Sorry," said Sam, retracting his arms.

Soon after Dean had woken up, the Nurses had taken him to the intensive care unit. Dean had asked to go back to the ward but they had insisted he needed a few days to recover, maybe less.

Dean had to admit he was still in a great deal of pain, as it turned out it wasn't his head that was hurting it was his neck, he had a large scar down the side of it that the Doctor's assured him would heal just fine.

"Don't worry," Dean said to Sam, who was now sitting on the end of his bed. "I'm so glad to see you."

Sam was crying desperately, like his body was squeezing out tears he didn't even have.

"Please don't cry," began Dean, "you'll make me cry."

"Sorry," Sam repeated, he was smiling but his body was wracked with sobs. He put his arms around Dean's body again, albeit gentler. "I'm just so happy to see you." He cried.

Despite himself, Dean felt the tears welling up in his eyes as he held Sammy close, ignoring the pain. Someone had decided to give him a second chance and he wasn't going to waste it for anything.

"I was so sure I wasn't going to make it." Dean admitted, wiping the tears away when Sam finally let him go.

"You always had hope," Sam reminded him, "I could see it in your eyes, that's what saved you."

Dean shook his head, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop crying. "No Sammy, you saved me. You did, I wouldn't have made it without you."

Sam placed a soft kiss on Dean's lips and it almost hurt, he thought he'd never feel Dean's lips again.

As he pulled away he heard the intensive unit doors open behind him and Mary Winchester rushed in, holding Cas in her arms.

Mary made the same mistake as Sam, she placed Cas on the floor so he was standing and wrapped her arms tightly around her son and he yelled out in pain, Sam winced.

Mary recoiled in shock and looked momentarily confused until she caught sight of the aggravated red scar on Dean's neck.

"Sorry!" She apologised.

Dean waved her off. "Don't worry about it, it's becoming a thing."

"Baby, when they told me you were okay it was such a relief..." His Mom cried.

Dean rolled his eyes but in his heart of hearts he didn't mean it. "Will everyone stop crying around here?"

"I'm not crying!" Cas piped up happily from the side of his bed.

Dean smiled hugely as he caught sight of his little Brother. "Mom, can I have Cas? I can't really..."

Mary understood immediately and picked Cas up and placed him on Dean's bed. Dean immediately hugged his little Brother and kissed him on the forehead, now he was the one who was crying as Cas hugged him back.

"How long was I..." he began, picking his words carefully for the sake of his Brother. "How long was I away?"

"Ages!" Cas moaned, making a face and causing Dean to smile with unspeakable pleasure of being here, being able to see this. His amazing Mom, his amazing little Cas and his amazing Sammy, he couldn't even believe there was a time in his life when he wanted to die.

"About 6 hours." Sam filled in.

This time Dean made a face. "6 hours? You're kidding?"

Mary shook her head. "Nope, 6 official hours of going out of my mind."

Dean blushed. "I'm sorry."

Mary stared at him like he'd just presented her with a dead puppy. "What on Earth are you sorry about? Dean, for crying out loud! Will you stop naturally assuming everything is your fault?"

Dean looked at Sam only to be met with a smug look that blatantly said, "I told you so."

Dean shook his head. "Okay, sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry."

Dean laughed at himself while Mary pinched the bridge of her nose but Sam could see the relief in her body language. Having Dean randomly laughing sat himself for being an idiot was a luxury.

Sam couldn't believe their luck, God must have smiled down on them.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked when Dean stopped laughing.

Dean shrugged but the movement seemed to aggravate his neck and he let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"I guess that answers my question."

"Seriously though," Dean began, "I feel fine, I feel great." He was smiling from ear to ear and Sam wanted to cry.

He knew Dean would be strong enough, he knew they'd both get a second chance.

...

Dean's family were soon ushered out by the intensive care staff despite his protests and Dean was instructed to get as much rest as he possibly could.

Sleep came surprisingly easy to him despite everything, it was the first time in months he didn't have any worry on his shoulders and for the first time in a long time he didn't have a strange dream.

Just a normal, stress-free, uneventful night and it seemed it was exactly what Dean had needed.

The next morning he woke up happy, happier than he'd been in years. The tumour was gone, the bastard was actually out of his body and despite how crazy it sounded it was almost like a physical weight had been lifted from his body, he genuinely felt brighter.

His mood was only elevated when Doctor Singer came down to the unit at lunch time to take him back to the ward.

He and the Doctor didn't talk of much as Dean was taken back, Dean suspected Doctor Singer was aware he only wanted to talk about the tumour when it was necessary.

Doctor Singer deposited Dean at the ward and Dean could do nothing but smile warmly at him, but he knew that Doctor Singer understood, Dean would have been proud to call him his Father.

When Dean walked into the ward, neck still sore from his scar, he didn't immediately announce his arrival, instead he stood in the doorway, watching Sam.

Sam was sat in the play area, cross legged, staring up at the television. Dean knew Sam had no particular interest in TV aside from films, he only really used it as a distraction technique.

Or if he was waiting for something.

"Hey Sammy." Dean said finally.

Sam turned and looked at him, he looked a little tired but his smile was warm and said more than Sam could ever say.

Dean walked slowly to him and Sam stood and the pair met in a warm hug that wasn't desperate or intense, they just wanted to hold each other.

"Hey," Sam said finally when they broke apart, smile still fixed firmly in place. "They let you out?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I've been all right."

Sam smiled hugely and threw his arms around Dean again. "You're okay, Dean. I knew you would be."

Sam and Dean were sat opposite each other on Dean's bed, loosely holding hands as Sam filled him in on everything he had missed.

"What about you?" Dean had asked, "how are you feeling?"

At that, Sam had smiled hugely and Dean couldn't help but smile with him.

"What is it?"

"Doctor Singer came to see me last night," Sam explained, smile clear in his voice. "He told me that, well...they think my Pneumonia's gone. I mean, they're not 100% and they want to keep me here for a bit longer but then they're going to let me out, I'm going to be okay!"

There was such glee in Dean's voice when he spoke. "Oh God, Sam. You know what this means? We made it, we both made it! We're okay."

"I knew we would." Said Sam.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "So did I."

Sam leant forward and captured Dean's mouth in a kiss. Dean sighed into his mouth, now he was definitely home.

There was something in their relationship that had changed, Dean had realised when he woke up.

Sure he loved Sam, he knew that. He knew he wanted everything Sam had, and he knew he never wanted anyone else to have it.

But now he wanted to give himself to Sam, to make sure Sam had all of him and wanted no one else to have it.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered against Sam's cheek, breathing Sam's smell. "I want you to top me this time."

Sam breathed heavily against Dean's skin, a million thoughts going through his mind. He was aroused and scared and hot and worried all at the same time, only Dean Winchester could make him a slave to his emotions.

"You have to be completely sure." Sam finally voiced.

Dean pulled back and looked at Sam. "I am sure. We're always safe and I trust you, besides, it just feels right and my Dad always taught me to trust my gut instinct, so..."

Sam couldn't help smiling to himself, that was first time he had heard Dean talk about his Father without holding back or getting upset, this was right.

Sam merely nodded and kissed Dean again.

Dean watched as Sam rolled the lubed condom onto his hard cock, a look of shock and anticipation on his face.

"Lean back." Sam whispered, and Dean complied. He'd never given anyone complete control of him like this, part of him was scared but the other part remembered that this was Sam, there was nothing to fear.

Sam slipped a lubed finger into Dean's hole, it was probably the first time he'd had anything inside him and the thought made Sam shiver.

He looked down at Dean under him, squirming from the intrusion, a look of sheer innocent confusion on his face.

Dean was actually letting Sam do this, take control of him. No one had ever controlled Dean before, he'd never given them the right.

Dean may have never told him he loved him, but Sam had his proof right there.

Dean nodded at Sam and Sam slowly inched another finger inside him, Dean was tight and hot and so unlike any other man he'd ever topped. Sam hadn't had sex with many people, his sexual experience was mainly limited to Gary and he didn't want to think about that.

Sam eased his fingers from Dean and replaced them with his cock, letting it rest against Dean's entrance for a moment, he took a deep breath.

"Wait."

Sam looked at Dean, partially sat up and staring at him.

"What?" Asked Sam quietly. "Do you not want to do this? That's okay..."

Dean shook his head, he put his arm around Sam's neck and mashed their lips together.

Sam moaned into Dean's mouth, easing him back into a lying position before slowly inching his cock into him.

Dean made a sharp intake of breath as Sam stilled completely, Sam pulled out of the kiss to look at him.

Dean was absolutely beautiful, he had sweat on his forehead and his eyes were closed, mouth open.

"You okay?" Sam asked soothingly.

Dean nodded, opening his eyes. "It hurts." He admitted.

Sam nodded, "it does the first time, but it'll go away soon. Unless you want me to..."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's okay, I want to." He risked a small smile. "I'm ready."

Sam nodded in acknowledgement before pushing in again, Dean let out a quiet cry.

Sam nearly came right there and then, watching Dean underneath him, squirming and making little keening noises.

Sam pulled out again and pushed back in, angling his thrust slightly.

Dean's eyes shot open immediately. He let out a shocked breath that tailed off into a whimper.

"Sammy," he began.

Sam smiled above him.

Dean reached up to kiss him again and Sam continued to fuck him shallowly, slowly, but grazing over his prostate.

It wasn't long before Dean was moaning filthily into Sam's mouth, bucking his hips into Sam and breathing out his name repeatedly.

"Sam...Sam...oh my God..."

"I told you," Sam breathed out, smiling. "I told you it was good."

Dean nodded before groaning loudly when Sam thrust harder.

"Oh, God, just like that, Sammy..." Dean said breathlessly, closing his eyes, "just like that..."

It wasn't long until Sam noticed the change in Dean's moans, they'd slept together enough for Sam to know what that meant.

He reached forward and wrapped his hand around Dean's hard cock and began jerking him off.

Dean fucking whimpered and when Sam twisted his wrist Dean came hard all over the pair of them, Sam fucked him through his orgasm and Dean clenched his ass around Sam's cock and the feeling was overwhelming, Sam came deep into the condom and cried out.

He heard Dean chuckling happily beneath him, Sam fixed him with a tired smile before pulling out immediately and throwing the condom away.

"Sam?" Asked Dean, sitting up, confusion in his voice.

Sam made his way back to bed and sat opposite Dean.

"Sorry, I...just want to be as safe as possible."

Dean smiled slightly, "yeah, I know."

"So," began Sam after a while, "was it... you know?"

Dean smiled again. "I can't believe we haven't done that before."

"Really?" Asked Sam.

"I'm glad it was you," Dean admitted.

"I'm glad it was me, too."

Dean hopped off of the bed and Sam watched him walk to the other side of the room.

"You know, it should be illegal for you to do that." Sam admitted.

"Do what?" Asked Dean, as he rummaged around in his night stand for something.

"Look that good." Said Sam.

Dean sauntered back over to the bed, eyebrows raised. "You love it." He said, causing Sam to laugh.

Sam then saw that Dean was holding a wad of tissues, he sat down and applied the tissues to the quickly drying come on his stomach, before reaching over and wiping Sam down as well.

"One day we'll be able to do this properly." Sam sighed.

"What do you mean?" Asked Dean, throwing the tissues into the bin.

"We'll be able to be loud and sleep in the same bed." He explained, reaching for his clothes and throwing Dean's at him. "We'll be able to sleep naked and together."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, a small smile playing on his lips as he mused it in his minds eye. "We'll be able to wear our own clothes and do what we want and not die."

Sam laughed before quickly stopping himself. "You've got to stop making me laugh at really inappropriate things." He mock-berated.

Dean laughed before kissing Sam softly. "Thank you." He breathed against his lips.

Sam smiled.

…

Cas was sat on Dean's lap and telling him all about his day at school, Mary was talking to Ellen and Michael and Sam was laughing at something Gabriel had just said, holding Jessica on his lap.

"Good morning," came a voice.

Doctor Singer was stood in front of them all.

Mary practically beamed at him. "Hi, Bobby."

Dean shot a look to his Mom.

"Dean, Mary, could I perhaps talk to you in private?" He asked.

Mary looked at Cas.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Winchester," Sam piped up, "Cas can come and play with me and Jess for a while."

"Would you like that?" Dean asked Cas.

Cas nodded happily before squeezing Dean tightly and wandering off into Sam's direction.

Dean shot Sam a grateful smile before standing up, he momentarily basked in the glory of not falling, not falling ever again.

Dean and Mary sat down in Doctor Singer's office.

"Dean," began Doctor Singer, "I'd like to tell you that, as you're aware, your operation was a success."

Dean nodded, naturally he would have pointed out how obvious that was, but not to Bobby.

"And I would like to invite you to follow up your procedure with some radiation therapy."

Dean looked at his Mom and then back to Doctor Singer. "Yeah, sure. I mean, if you think I need it..."

"...as an out-patient."

Dean stared at him. "A...are you serious?"

Doctor Singer nodded, a smile on his face. "We'd like to keep you in for another week, but after that, and with visits to the hospital, I think you'll be good to go home."

"Oh my God," said Mary quietly beside him, hugging Dean from the side and kissing him on the forehead. "That's amazing!"

Dean genuinely didn't know what to say for a few moments, he was very rarely speechless.

"I can go home." He said to himself. "Wow, I don't know what to say."

"You've made a remarkable recovery." Doctor Singer told him.

Dean could feel his Mother holding onto him still, but he didn't know what to say to her.

He thought he'd never go back home, never see his room or his team or even the damn Cat.

Everything was going to be just like it was, except life was completely different now.

"Thank you." Dean said quietly to Doctor Singer, who merely nodded at him, smiling.

…

"Dean, I am so happy!" Mary kept saying as they walked back to the ward.

"Yeah, me too." Dean admitted. "I can't believe it, I'm still kind of dazed."

Mary laughed. "Yeah, that ones obvious."

Dean chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"What do you miss the most?" Mary asked after a minute.

Dean tried to cast his mind back, being in the hospital was life now and he found he couldn't actually remember much about not being there.

So many life changing things had happened in here, so many things about him had changed that he didn't know what sort stuff was also going to change once he got home.

He did know one thing that was definitely going to change, and it made him smile. There would be a lot more Sam Wesson around.

"I guess I just miss being home," Dean admitted. "I miss my room and my music, I miss seeing you and Cas everyday." He laughed darkly to himself. "I miss my clothes."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Again with the clothes."

Dean shook his head. "It's just weird, things are gonna be different when I get home, I'm not the same person I was when I came in."

"Yeah," Mary nodded, and the pair stopped walking. "You're not different, though." She told him. "You're more yourself now, it's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back." He smiled.

"And I'm so glad you decided to go to College."

Dean shrugged. "Come on, Mom..."

"I'm serious." Mary continued, catching his attention. She reached out and took his hands in hers, in much the same way she did when Dean's Father had had his accident.

"Your Dad would be so proud of you, Dean." She said. "You're exactly the man he wanted you to be."

"Yeah." Was all Dean said, but in his head he was thinking to himself, I think he can forgive me, now.

Mary laughed and dipped her head, it was times like this when Dean saw how beautiful she was.

"Come on, let's get back to the ward."

"Hang on, you go. I'm gonna spy out a vending machine." He told her.

Mary arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I see. As soon as the sickness is gone, your back on the soda wagon."

Dean grinned and kissed her on the cheek.

"Precisely." He said, before disappearing down the hall.

…

Despite how familiar he was with the layout of the hospital, it occurred to Dean that he had no idea where any of the vending machines were.

Since he'd been advised to avoid soda, despite his protests, he hadn't really been looking for them.

Which lead to his trip to find one being extra long, but he didn't necessarily care.

He had all the time in the world now, like a new lease of life.

When he'd been talking to Doctor Singer earlier, he'd talked about Dean's good recovery.

But the truth was, it wasn't just his recovery. He never would have made it on his own, every life changing thing that had happened to him, and maybe even the fact he was alive at all, had all come from Sam.

Everyone always went on and on about how strong and brave Dean was, they overlooked how amazing Sam Wesson actually was.

Sam was the bravest man Dean had ever met, that was the truth.

Dean turned when he heard some commotion in the hall behind him, he saw a crowd of people part like some fleshy red sea to make way for a man sprinting through.

Dean raised his eyebrows as he saw that it was Gabriel.

"Dean!" He shouted out when he caught sight of him, "Dean, stop!"

Confused, Dean jogged the rest of the hallway to meet him, holding onto his arms to still him.

"Gabriel, calm down!" Dean said authoritatively, a trick he'd learnt from his Mother. "What the hell is going on?"

Gabriel had grasped onto Dean's arms to keep himself steady, there were tear tracks on his face and he was breathing heavily.

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why?" Asked Dean, "have you been crying?" Dean had never seen Gabriel like this before, it was kind of scary.

"It's Sam,' Gabriel finally choked out, and a feeling like ice cold water spread through Dean's veins.

"Gabriel," Dean began again, voice hard. "What's happened to Sam?"

All manner of horrible scenarios were racing through his mind, so he certainly wasn't expecting what came out of Gabriel's mouth.

"It's his Pneumonia, it's relapsed."

Gabriel continued talking but Dean could barely hear him, it sounded like he was underwater, everything Gabriel said sounded distant and distorted. It didn't sound real.

"Come on, we have to get back to him."

Dean and Gabriel charged through the hospital, Dean hadn't run properly since he'd first been diagnosed but that didn't mean anything now.

The pair skidded to a halt when they got back to the ward, Mary was comforting a crying Ellen and Michael was looking after Jessica, Cas was sat on Dean's bed playing with a toy, he looked confused.

Dean ran immediately to his Brother and took him in his arms. "It's okay, Cas." Dean said as Cas clung onto him.

Gabriel looked confused, too. "Where is Sam?" He asked.

"Doctor Singer took him away," Mary explained, "they said they needed to run some tests to see the extent of his relapse."

"But, he's gonna be okay, right?" Dean asked desperately.

Mary shrugged. "We don't know." She answered quietly, not wanting to upset Ellen further.

Dean sat down slowly on the bed, still holding Cas.

He felt Cas tug on his shirt sleeve. "Dean," began the six year old, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean answered blankly, unable to stop a single tear rolling down his cheek. He had no idea what to think, no idea how long he was supposed to wait.

He wanted nothing more than to scour the hospital until he found Sam, but Cas kept him grounded, the grieving family kept him grounded.

In one room, they were all feeling the same pain.

…

It felt like hours until Doctor Singer finally came back, they all stood when he entered, a morbid look on his face.

"Doctor Singer," began Michael, "what's going on with my son?"

Doctor Singer closed his eyes momentarily and Dean thought he was going to cry.

"I'm so sorry," he began, voice thick, trying to retain his professionalism. "But I'm afraid Sam's condition has taken a turn for the worse."

"But, he was getting so much better," Dean cut in, "I saw it, he was fine, you all said his Pneumonia was gone!"

"We were wrong," Doctor Singer admitted. "It was the calm before the storm, it's always the same. This is the most horrible turn of events, but we very much doubt he'll last the night."

Dean watched in horror as Ellen threw up all over the floor, Michael rushed to her and Gabriel fell to his knees, Jessica stood all alone.

Mary walked towards Dean and took Cas from him, tears streaming down her face as Dean felt his whole world fall apart around him.

He didn't want to accept it, Sam couldn't...Dean wanted to go back to that operating table and give his life for Sam's.

Time seemed to be in slow motion, the grief was in the air.

"I want to be with my baby." Ellen finally said.

Doctor Singer looked uneasy for a moment. "He wants to see you all," he said, "but...he expressively asked to spend this night with Mr Winchester."

Dean covered his face as he felt the eyes of the Wesson family boring into his skull. He knew what they were all thinking, why did he get to live when Sam didn't, why would Sam pick him over us?

"That's absurd!" Michael thundered, "Sam will spend this night with his family!"

"Dad!" Gabriel shouted, even though he was still crying. "Sam gets one last night on this Earth, you can't take away what he wants!" Dean stared in shock at the eldest Wesson. "He wants Dean!" Gabriel continued. "He fucking loves him!"

Dean couldn't make eye contact with any of them, Gabriel was a stand up guy, he actually got it. He wanted nothing but for Sam to have what he wanted, he and Dean would have definitely been friends.

…

Sam watched as his family walked in. His Mom, Dad, Brother and Sister.

"Hey," he smiled at them, his breathing was very laboured.

"Sammy!' Ellen cried, wrapping her arms around her son.

Sam coughed heavily against her tight hold but she didn't seem to notice, Michael ultimately had to drag her off of him.

"Ellen..." He said softly in her ear, but Ellen pushed him away and hugged Sam again, softer this time.

"Sam, this is insane." She whispered against his ear. "Why do want to spend this time with him?"

Sam knew this was coming the moment the words were out of his mouth. "Because he's as much my family as the rest of you," Sam explained. "Please, let me have this."

Ellen pursed her lips together but nodded. "Sammy, Baby, you're gonna be just fine..." She began.

Sam nodded, smiling. "I know I will be, Mom."

"Hey, buddy." Gabriel said, standing beside his Mom. "How you feeling?" He asked, voice heavy.

Sam shrugged but instantly regretted it, the movement hurt. "I've seen better days."

A tear slid down Gabriel's cheek.

"Come on," began Sam, "don't cry, not you!"

"I'm sorry," Gabriel apologised, sitting down at the end of Sam's bed. "It's not fair."

"I know," Sam agreed, "I know it's not fair, but we knew this was going to happen sooner or later, I've had this over my head for a long time, and I wanted to thank you all for being there for me."

Ellen burst into tears again, she couldn't help it.

Gabriel took Sam's hands into his. "You're amazing, Sam." He said, "you always have been, so much better than me. I'll always love you, little bro."

Sam felt the tears on his cheeks as Gabriel hugged him gently. "I'll always love you," he whispered against Gabriel's cheek, "you've been the best big Brother in the world, I'm not just saying that."

The pain Gabriel felt was so very unique. He couldn't imagine it in his head, like someone else's pain was being channelled through him. He tried to imagine it, he tried to imagine a life where he wouldn't see Sam everyday, a life where he would be faced with his own mortality and live like there was something he should have done.

But he was done being selfish, it wasn't his pain he was thinking about. He was thinking about all of the things Sam was going to miss, all of the things Gabriel needed him there for, the things you just needed your little Brother for.

He thought of Jessica's wedding and Sam wouldn't be in the background. Hell, he thought of Sam's wedding, the wedding he should have had, a wedding more than likely to a certain Winchester that was never going to happen.

Gabriel would never forget his little Brother, he'd always be with him until the day Gabriel died.

Gabriel kissed Sam on the forehead before moving away, tears still sliding down his cheeks, to let his Mother through.

Ellen Wesson had been preparing for this moment for years, but now it was finally here she couldn't handle it.

She wanted to watch her wonderful Sam grow and have a brilliant life, she could just picture it in her minds eye. Sam was supposed to train to be a Doctor and get a wonderful job and have brilliant kids, in her future Sam was healthy and happy and Dean Winchester was never too far away.

But that had all been taken away from him, it wasn't fair.

Ellen leant down and kissed Sam, tears stinging hers eyes and Sam could feel all of her pain channelling into him.

"You'll always be my baby," she told him, "I'll always love you and I'll always be proud of you. You'll always be in my heart."

Sam nodded, trying to stop the tears from flowing. "I know, Mom. I love you, too."

"Sam?" Began Jess, a look of distress on her face.

"Hey, Jess!" Sam began, smiling through his tears and putting his arm around her. It hurt that Sam would never see her grow up, never be able to help her with her homework or threaten her first boyfriend.

But he'd always watch over her.

"You are going to be the best when you grow up," he told her, "you already are. Gabriel's going to look after you, and you're gonna be amazing."

Jessica merely nodded at him.

"I'll always love you, Jessica." Sam told her, and that's when he lost control, saying goodbye to his little sister, knowing all the things he was going to miss.

He hid his face behind his hand as he cried. Gabriel hugged him again and Ellen hugged him again and took Jessica's hand.

"We'll see you, tomorrow, baby." Ellen said, and Sam nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Gabriel let her out and Sam could hear her wailing in the hallway, he wanted to shout for her to come back, for them all to come back, he didn't want it to be the last time he saw his family, but if he saw them again, it was only going to be harder.

He hated the pain he had caused them.

Sam saw that his Father was still stood across the room, staring at him.

"Dad?" Sam asked, voice thick. "I..."

Michael Wesson walked across the room and sat down beside Sam, Sam then saw that he was crying.

"Sammy," he began, "I know I'm sometimes distant and reserved but...I've always loved you, and tomorrow there is going to be a hole in me that can never be filled."

Sam didn't know what to say, he knew deep down his Dad always loved him but he hadn't expected him to say it.

"You'll always..." Michael cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "You'll always be my son."

Sam could feel the tears stinging his eyes from the pride in his Father's voice.

"And you'll always be my Daddy." He said quietly, words punctured by his sobs.

Michael leant down and hugged Sam, it was the first time he'd hugged his Father in years and he wished they'd had more time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Son." He said, eyes still wet. Sam nodded and Michael left the room.

Sam didn't know who that lie was for, all of them he supposed.

But it made nothing easier.

Sam knew he was never going to see his family again, he was never going to be able to do all the things he wanted, he knew all this but he couldn't think about it.

He'd go insane, he couldn't spent his last night on Earth going out of his mind.

He'd been expecting this for ages, mentally preparing himself. So now it was here, he had some zany sort of acceptance.

He knew he was lucky he'd made it this far, he'd had a good life so far, he couldn't fault that.

Sam looked up when Mary walked into the room, balancing Cas on her hip.

Sam smiled. "Hey," he said.

Mary smiled as she approached him but her eyes were red, Cas was bouncing happily in her arms.

"Hi, Sam. How are you feeling?" She asked, sounding normal. She was keeping it together, Sam was grateful for that. But she obviously had a lot of practise doing that, Mary was a good person, he was glad she hadn't lost her son.

"I'm all right," Sam admitted, trying to disguise the more painful aspects of his condition.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Mary asked carefully, concern in her voice.

"Not really." Sam replied, but Mary could see right through it.

"I thought you might want to see Cas," she began, deciding to drop the subject. A smile lit up Sam's face. "Yeah, thank you."

Mary smiled back as she placed Cas on the end of Sam's bed. Cas crawled up to meet Sam and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Mommy says you're going away for a while." He said.

Sam nodded. "I need you to do some very important things for me while I'm gone, do you think you can do that?"

Cas looked like he was considering for a moment, but nodded after a few moments.

"I need you to look after your Mom and look after your Brother for me." He told Cas.

Cas nodded seriously, his little face scrunched up in concentration. "I will."

"Come on, Cassy." Mary said from behind them, "we've got to go."

Cas put his small arms around Sam's neck and hugged him. "I love you, Sam." Was all he said.

Sam felt fresh tears in his eyes as he hugged him back. "I love you, too, Cas."

Mary put her arms around Cas as she lifted him away and Sam quickly scrubbed the tears from his eyes.

Mary looked like she was considering for a moment, but then she leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Sam's forehead.

"Goodbye, Sam." Mary said, a tear sliding down her face.

"Goodbye, Mary."

Mary lingered for a minute at the door before turning back to him. "Thank you for saving my son."

Sam wanted to tell her that Dean saved himself, but decided against it. "You're welcome."

Mary nodded at him before she left the room, Cas waved to him until he was out of sight, Sam sketched a little wave back.

Then he was alone.

Sam didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to allow his thoughts to overcome him, he didn't want to be scared.

…

Dean watched as his Mother and Cas walked out of the little hospice room, the image of the grieving Wesson family seared into his brain.

"Hey," Mary greeted, her eyes looked a little sore.

Dean took her into his arms and held her for a minute, Mary sighed as she rested her head on his collarbone, Cas was wedged between them, he giggled.

"It's not fair." Mary whispered, "it's not his time."

Dean didn't say anything.

Mary eventually pulled away. "Are you sure you're okay doing this?" She asked.

Dean nodded. "I have to, Mom."

Mary nodded and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll be upstairs when you need us."

Dean smiled in thanks as he watched his Mom and Cas walk away, it was suddenly eerily quiet.

Dean looked at the door, he knew what was waiting behind it. Part of him wanted to bolt into the room and hold Sam all night, but another part of him wanted to bolt from the hospital and never look back, run far, far away so the pain could never consume him.

He hated himself for it.

Dean had planned this whole future around the fact that Sam was going to be a part of it, the reason he wanted to get out so badly was because Sam was going to be next to him...but now he wasn't.

Dean had been allowed a second chance and Sam hadn't. Dean tried to contemplate his life without Sam in it a number of times but he hadn't wanted to think about it.

But now it was reality, now his brain wanted to reject the pain before it killed him.

Dean pushed the door open and walked inside.

The room was small, he frowned, he didn't want Sam getting claustrophobic, and there in the middle of the room was Sam, lying on a bed and smiling at him.

Dean was shocked into silence, he barely recognised the boy lying in front of him. Sam's skin was deathly pale, whiter than the sheets he was lying on, his eyes look drawn out and ill and sunken in.

It made Dean want to vomit, seeing him being destroyed this way. But he forced himself to look, and he saw it, that light in Sam's eyes that made him Sam.

It was the only thing that kept Dean grounded.

"Sam." Dean breathed out, sitting down next to the bed. He felt like he'd got a lump in his throat he hadn't noticed before, like his tumour has migrated.

Dean suddenly remembered he didn't have a tumour any more, and for some crazy reason, he didn't like that thought.

Everything was changing, but all he wanted was for things to go back to how they were.

"Hey." Sam greeted, smiling. Dean immediately picked up on how laboured his breathing was.

Sam's eyes slowly dragged to Dean's, still as alive and sparkling as the time they'd first met and he was convinced Sam's constant cheeriness would kill him, Dean had to fight off the urge just to stare into his eyes all night.

"How are you?" He asked eventually.

"I'm okay," he said, frowning slightly. "I hurt, though."

Dean nodded like it was obvious. "Yeah, yeah. Is there anything...?"

Sam shook his head slowly before Dean could finish. "They have me on pain medication," he gestured to the morphine drip he was hooked up to, "now it's just a waiting game."

Dean nodded before he felt an unexpected tear fall from his eye, he lowered his head out of sight.

"Dean..."

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam paused for a moment. "Sorry for what?" He asked.

Dean looked up again, seeing the frown on Sam's face. "I'm sorry that this is happening to you, this feels like it's all my fault."

"How could this possibly be your fault?" Sam asked, "you have to stop blaming yourself for everything."

Dean nodded again, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeves. "Yeah, sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry."

Sam laughed, mind momentarily drawn back to seeing Dean as he'd gotten out of his surgery, back to when everything was okay, but it quickly deteriorated into a hacking cough, Dean could do nothing but look on helplessly.

It was a full minute until either of them spoke again.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up to him, face open and ready for whatever Dean had to say. Dean paused for a second, not sure how to word his next sentence.

"Why did you choose me?" He began, quickly speaking again before Sam could interrupt. "I mean, your family are here, and you wanted me. I don't understand."

Sam smiled again and lifted a hand to Dean's cheek. "Because I love you, you idiot. I want you to be here."

Dean couldn't argue with him, he couldn't look Sam in the eye and tell him he was wrong.

It was what Sam wanted. If he told Dean there was a cure in China he'd happily walk it.

Dean nodded at him nonetheless. "Yeah, okay. Your family are going to hate me." He admitted.

Sam looked a little sad. "They won't hate you, they'll just be confused. Especially Dad...he never really got how someone could be gay."

"Was that why he was always kind of...distant?" Asked Dean carefully.

Sam nodded slightly. "He'd never admit it but we all knew. He didn't get me, but he always loved me."

Dean nodded in agreement. "That was always the issue with my Dad, sometimes I hated him for it. I wish he'd never loved me and his death would be easier to handle..." Dean saw Sam looking at him and paused. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about myself."

"I don't want to talk about me." Sam admitted, "I want a distraction, I want to hear about you."

"Really?" Dean asked, feeling bad that he was making Sam talk even more, breathing sounded painful to him.

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah, tell me something about yourself that I don't know."

"Okay," began Dean, wracking his brain for something interesting to tell Sam.

Dean told Sam all about the day Cas was born, about how he was so distressed after his Father's death he didn't think anything would make him feel better.

Then Cas came along, with his shock of black hair and John's eyes and he was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen, and the first time Dean had held him he promised he would never let anything happen to him.

Sam smiled and pitched in and kept asking questions, they talked about Dean's life for hours and hours, sometimes Sam would pitch in with relatable stories from his childhood but mostly he focused on Dean.

It was at 5am when Sam's breathing started to change.

"Dean..." Began Sam slowly, cutting Dean off in the middle of his sentence, he sounded worried.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, concerned. He hadn't even checked the time.

Sam's breath was even more laboured that before and he reached out a hand, searching for Dean's.

Dean held his hand tightly as Sam began to cough, it sounded raw and painful and the noise alone forced a tear from Dean's eye.

"Sammy..." He said again, words becoming more desperate.

It was happening, Dean knew it was happening.

He watched Sam in front of him, impossibly pale and frail, struggling to breathe. He didn't know what to do, he didn't think there was anything he could do.

Sam smiled slightly at Dean. "It's all right, Dean. I'm okay."

"No, you're not okay." Dean said, feeling the tears on his cheeks.

Sam held his hand tighter. "There's nothing you can do, I have to go." His breathing was heavy, his words were breathless.

Dean shook his head, he couldn't face this, not now.

"No, no, you can't go." He began, "you can't go now, Sammy." Dean stroked Sam's hair, wet with sweat, he could feel him gently convulsing beneath him. "You have so much to do," Dean was saying, "you can't miss it. You were going to be a Doctor, remember? You were going to help people."

Sam smiled again, his eyes looked tired like he was getting ready for bed. He lifted one hand and pressed it against Dean's cheek, Dean closed his eyes and leant into his palm.

"I helped you." Sam replied, and Dean opened his eyes again. Sam's eyes were filled with such love and pride it made Dean want to kiss him and vomit at the same time. He wasn't worth it, he wasn't worth all the grief Sam was going through.

That feeling of worthlessness spread through Dean, bubbling and warping into rage.

"It's not fair," said Dean angrily, "it's not fair that I get to live when you don't, it's not fair that you're dying at all."

"If I wasn't dying," Sam began, "I wouldn't have met you."

Dean shook his head slightly, making a helpless noise.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, calming himself down and forcing the tears to stop.

When he opened them, Sam was looking worriedly up at him, a look of hurt in his eyes.

Dean paused for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"I love you."

Sam smiled up at him, he looked like he was going to cry. Dean could feel him trembling beneath him, his breathing was so laboured...

"I'm sorry," Dean continued, "I should have said it sooner..."

Sam shook his head. "Whenever you're feeling defeated, hold onto that." Sam began, a tear sliding down his cheek. "Remember that there is always love in this world, and wherever I am, I still love you."

"Please," Dean begged, tasting his salty tears on his lips. "Please don't leave."

"I don't have a choice." Sam reminded him.

Dean didn't speak for a few moments, but after a while he shook his head. "No. No, you always had a choice." Dean began as Sam started to shake, "you never let this kill you."

Dean smiled through his tears down at Sam. "You won, Sammy, you won. You're free now."

Using the last of his strength, Sam leant up and pressed his lips to Dean.

Dean kissed him softly as he felt Sam's life energy leave him.

He went softly, like he just drifted away.

Sam could feel no pain, not anymore.

…

Doctor Singer hadn't expected Dean to give up Sam's body as easily as he had, but Dean didn't recognise anything of Sam there anymore. That little twinkle in his eye that had kept him grounded was gone, he couldn't feel Sam inside that body anymore.

Sam had left, and what little part of him that was still there had latched onto Dean.

Dean could still feel him, like he was hovering next to him, not speaking, just beyond his reach but no one else could see him.

Dean walked slowly back to the ward, back to his Mom and his Brother, nothing felt real anymore.

The hospital didn't feel like his home anymore, it felt as cold as it had been when he'd first been diagnosed.

And, for the first time in a long time, Dean was dreading going back to the ward. The Wesson family were still there, still waiting.

He'd grown accustomed to them over the last few months but a part of him never wanted to see them again, not even little Jessica.

But, as it turned out, Dean's worry had been for nothing. The only two people in the ward were sat on Dean's bed, talking quietly.

Mary looked up when Dean entered the room. "Hey, sweetheart." She said gently, "how are you?"

Dean shrugged, Mary could see the distance in his eyes just like before he was diagnosed, it scared her.

"Where are they?" Dean asked, gesturing around the empty ward.

"They left a few hours ago," Mary informed him, "Doctor Singer came a told us what happened..."

Part of Mary was frustrated that Dean had to go through that, had to see the best friend he ever had die. But another part of her knew that Dean was right, if he hadn't have gone to Sam, he would have hated himself for the rest of his life.

"Gabriel told me to tell you to call him," Mary continued, Dean's forehead creased in confusion, it was the only genuine emotion he'd shown so far.

"Really?" He asked, "what for?"

"To talk about the funeral." Mary said slowly, "he wants you to be there."

The funeral. Of course.

Sam was dead.

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek and all the shock that had kept the pain away faded from inside him.

Sam was dead, he'd died in his arms and he was never going to come back.

Dean sank to his knees and let his head fall into his hands, feeling the sobs wracking through his body.

"Dean," he heard Mary say above him, "it's going to be okay..."

"No it's not!" Dean practically shouted, shocking her. "He shouldn't have died! It wasn't his time, I should have died!"

"Mommy..."

Mary turned to see Cas, still slumped on Dean's bed. "Can you put me on the floor?" He asked, "wanna hug Dean better."

Mary shook her head. "No, sweetie, you leave Dean be for a moment."

Cas stared at her, confusion in his blue eyes. That was the first time Mary had ever refused to let Cas go to Dean and he didn't understand.

All he could see was his Brother crying on the floor and no one was going to him.

Dean could feel the pain inside him numbing him, making his blood ice cold and his limbs freeze over.

He wondered if this was what it was like to die, if this was what Sam had felt.

He wouldn't have cared if he were dying, there was no life without Sam in it.

…

Dean adjusted his tie in the bathroom mirror, he'd been home for a fortnight now and nothing felt any different.

It felt like he'd never gone to the hospital, like it was all some terrible dream.

But Dean still had an aching hole in his chest reminding him it had all been real.

Dean hadn't gotten in touch with any of his old friends, a few people had come round to see him but he'd had no time for them.

He could hear Mary assuring them that he wasn't himself lately and he'd be just fine soon.

That was obviously a lie but Dean never questioned her on it.

Dean had spent most of his time locked up in his room or playing with Cas, wondering why in the hell he could still feel Sammy's presence wherever he went no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

Dean knew what grief felt like, he'd seen it and felt it and he knew that as long as Sam was next to him in his head nothing would ever change.

The only person Dean had allowed himself to see outside of his family was Gabriel.

The oldest Wesson brother had insisted that he had no hard feelings towards Dean and they should stay in contact.

Dean could see the pain in Gabriel's eyes whenever he saw him, the pain for his little Brother he'd never see again.

Dean wondered what sort of pain he'd be feeling, having lost Sam. Dean couldn't imagine losing Cas and he didn't want to think about it.

Gabriel was strong, stronger than most people.

It was becoming quite clear where Sam had subliminally learned most of his strength from.

Mary poked her head around the bathroom door, without knocking of course, and smiled at him.

"You look handsome," she observed.

Dean rolled his eyes, he doubted that's what you'd conventionally say to anyone dressing up to go to a funeral but he thanked her anyway.

"Are you ready to go?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, what about Cas?"

"He's waiting in the car, I told him we were going to say goodbye to Sam, I don't think he gets it."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. He lived in fear of the day Cas would finally understand why he never saw Dad, or why he never saw Sam, or why Dean had been in hospital for so long.

All Dean could do was to be there for him when it happened, he just wished it didn't have to happen at all. He never wanted Cas to have to experience the pain he had felt, or the pain he was feeling right now.

Although Dean hoped that Cas would remember Sam, remember that they'd been friends and Sam had read him the most amazing stories.

He didn't want Sam's part in Cas's life to go unremembered.

Dean followed his Mom to the car and they drove in silence to the funeral home, Dean didn't know what to expect when he got there.

The Wesson family were stood outside of the funeral home, greeting people as they walked inside.

Dean wondered why he wasn't feeling anything yet. He figured being here would amplify all his pain but he still felt the same dull ache inside his chest he'd been feeling since Sam had died.

Mary greeted Ellen and Michael solemnly whilst Dean hung back, holding Cas's hand.

Gabriel approached them, holding Jessica.

"Hey," he said, his voice flat. "Glad you could make it."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Hi Cas." Jessica waved.

Cas waved happily back.

"Jess," began Gabriel, "why don't you show Cas the gardens?"

Jessica nodded, Gabriel put her down and she took Cas's hand from Dean and lead him away.

Dean watched them go.

"How is she taking it?" Dean asked.

Gabriel sighed. "She doesn't quite get it yet," he admitted, "she keeps just asking where Sam is."

Dean looked on sadly. "It's gonna be rough having to eventually explain it to her."

Gabriel nodded. "Have you and your Mom told Cas about your Dad yet?"

Dean shook his head. "No, we don't think he's ready. We're waiting until he's about ten."

Gabriel nodded again. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Dean was silent for a long moment, he didn't know how to talk to Gabriel. He remembered when he'd lost his Dad he didn't want anyone to talk to him. "How have you all been holding up?"

Gabriel shrugged. "It's hard, I mean, we were all expecting it for ages but we weren't ready for it, no matter how much we thought we were."

"I thought we'd have so much time." Dean said quietly.

"So did Sam." Gabriel admitted.

"He was strong, though," Dean explained, trying not to let the memories of that night into his brain so they could destroy him again, not today, "until the end. He was always strong."

Dean and Gabriel were interrupted by Ellen walking over to them.

"Dean," she began, "it's so good to see you again."

"Oh, you too." Dean replied, mildly shocked. He'd half-expected Ellen to slap him the next time he saw him, but it looked like she was being bigger than all that. Dean was grateful for it.

"I'm really glad you could come," she admitted, smiling. Although Dean could see the pain behind her smile, he didn't know what to say.

Dean merely smiled back.

…

"Dean!" Mary called, turning a corner and seeing Dean sat alone on a bench in one of the gardens, it was a glorious day, it was like the weather knew how special Sam was. "It's about to start."

Dean nodded, not looking at her. He was staring at the daisies on the ground, he knew his very own daisy chain was lodged between two books he'd picked up from his night stand in the hospital, but they'd gone straight to the back of his closet and he hadn't looked at them since, he had no intention of doing so any time soon, either. Daisies were always going to remind Dean of Sam but they weren't happy memories, they were supposed to be happy memories.

"Why are you sat all alone?"

Dean didn't answer, he heard Mary sit down next to him and put a comforting arm over his shoulder.

"You don't have to lock yourself away, Dean," she said comfortingly, "we all understand, we all want to help you, we know you miss him."

"I'm not locking myself away because I'm worried about what people will think of me," Dean said, "believe me, that ship sailed a long time ago."

He looked at his Mom, she looked worried behind her comforting eyes.

"I don't feel alone." He admitted, watching how her forehead creased, it was the first time he'd talked about this to anyone. "I feel like he's always sat next to me, but I can't touch him, and that's not right, it's not supposed to be that way."

Mary hugged Dean tighter. "I had the exact same thing with your Dad." She admitted.

"Really?" Dean asked, she nodded, smiling sadly.

"What did you do about it?" He asked.

"One day," she admitted, "one day it just stopped, it felt like he'd died all over again...but I got better after that. It's just gonna take time, Dean."

Dean was silent for a long time. "I love him, Mom."

Mary nodded. "I know." She said.

Dean closed his eyes and sank into his Mother's embrace, maybe he wasn't so alone in a good way, too.

…

Dean watched the procession from his seat, he watched them carry Sam's coffin up to the front.

Dean knew that it should hurt like hell, but it didn't feel like Sam was in that box, it felt like he was next to him watching it all happen.

He knew Sam would be blushing and saying how they shouldn't have gone to so much effort for him.

The thought nearly made Dean want to smile.

The Priest conducting the ceremony began to speak, saying all of these wonderful things about Sam Wesson but none of them were true, because he didn't know him.

It made Dean angry, all the stuff he got wrong.

Even his name started to sound wrong, something in the back of Dean's mind was saying Sam Winchester.

The whole funeral seemed to go by in a blur, Gabriel didn't say anything despite the fact that Dean had expected him to, but it must have been hard, having to go up and speak.

A few of Sam's former classmates read out a poem and Ellen went up to say goodbye, Dean saw that his own Mother was crying.

He knew that not a few months ago she may have had to do exactly the same thing.

But the whole thing felt wrong, everyone who spoke hadn't really known Sam, every word was wrong. They hadn't seen Sam's strength or fear, Sam didn't deserve this as a send off.

So when the priest asked of anyone wanted to say anything, Dean found himself on his feet, despite his better judgement, asking for an audience.

When he was overlooking everyone, he realised that most of these people had no idea who this guy was, but he saw his Mom smiling at him and he could feel Sam next to him, urging him on.

"M...my name is Dean Winchester," he said to the crowd, "and umm, I didn't really prepare anything but...I was privileged enough to spend the last few months in a hospital ward with Sam Wesson."

He could hear a few people murmuring, Ellen was smiling sadly.

Dean had no idea what he was saying, but it was coming out and he didn't think he'd be able to stop it if he tried, his voice grew more confident.

"I was dying," he said loudly, "I...wanted to die." He tried to avoid his Mother's face. "But, Sam Wesson changed everything in me, and he showed me that I could be scared, but I could still be strong and he saved my life in every possible way. Sammy was strong, and he was kind and he was a kid, he was a kid with so many hopes and dreams and the whole world is at a loss because he's not in it anymore. T...thank you."

Dean ignored the faces of the Wesson family as he walked back to his Mother, surrounded by polite applause.

Mary Winchester was crying as she hugged him, but all Dean could feel were a hundred pairs of eyes trained on the slowly fading scar on his neck.

…

Cas was asleep in the back seat when they drove back late that evening, Dean was at the wheel and Mary was smiling at Cas.

Dean always felt weird driving this car, it had been his Dad's, the same one he'd died in, but Mary had insisted they they get it fixed up because that was what John would have wanted.

Dean couldn't blame him, there weren't many '67 Chevy Impala's around and the car was a beauty, despite how weird it made him feel, Dean knew deep down he should be driving her, it was what his Dad would have wanted.

"He looks like a little angel." Mary said, before turning back and facing the front.

"I was so proud of you, today." Mary said, "that was a lovely thing to say about Sam."

Dean shrugged, "people needed to know."

"Well, Sam would have been proud as well." She said.

Dean didn't reply.

"You guys really knew each other," she continued, "I think it was meant to be."

After a while, Dean spoke again. "Is it messed up that the best time I had in my life was when I was dying?"

Mary smiled sadly as Dean pulled into their drive. "You just need time to heal." She said as she picked Cas up out off the back seat. "I don't know what we'd do without this car." Dean knew she was only saying that to change the subject, but it was true.

Dean got out of the drivers side and patted the car. "You did good, Baby."

He had no idea why he called the Impala "Baby," but then he also had no idea why his Mom was convinced things were going to get better with time.

Dean didn't think he'd ever be okay again.

…

5 YEARS LATER

Dean Winchester was sat inside his room, unpacking boxes. Only a few weeks ago he'd graduated from College and he was about to start an internship at a publishing agency and he'd finally been able to move back home.

He'd spent the last few years in a College in Washington and Mary had insisted he take the Impala with him, all the feelings of weirdness had gone, now he couldn't imagine being without her.

Whilst he was glad to go, he'd barely been able to survive on only seeing his Mom and Cas a few times a year.

When he'd gotten back, despite Cas being a "big boy" now, he'd still thrown his arms around his big Brother and Dean could have sworn he saw a tear in his eye, but all in all he was glad he went.

It had taken him a long time to be ready to go to College but he did it in the end, it was what Sam would have wanted for him, even now Dean still missed him everyday. But he didn't think about Sam as much as he used to, it didn't bring him down and hide him away as much as he did.

As he had time to heal, he'd had time to remember all of the things Sam had taught him, about having hope and courage, and about there always being strength in the world no matter how bad Dean felt about himself.

It was good to finally come home, he'd missed his Mom and his Brother.

Dean looked up when he heard a faint knock on his door, Cas was stood there.

Cas was eleven years old, his messy black hair and big blue eyes hadn't changed, but he was considerably taller and finally starting to gain some muscle mass. In some ways, Cas had changed so much from the bouncing 6 year old he had been, for one thing, he didn't want to be a pirate anymore.

But Dean still saw the same enthusiasm in his eyes, and the same little boy he'd loved with all of his heart when he'd first seen him come into this world.

"Hey buddy," Dean greeted.

"Hey," Cas replied, "I was just wondering if you needed any help unpacking?" Cas may have denied it, but Dean could see he'd missed him, it made him smile. Cas was at the awkward age now where he was close to puberty and everything was "uncool", but Dean was never far away looking after him, watching out for him and reminding him exactly how much he laughed when Dean did his pretty passable pirate accent.

Dean shook his head, "no, I'm good, I'm almost done anyway, and then I'm meeting Gabriel."

Cas shrugged slightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Some days Dean saw so much of himself in Cas, but only the good stuff.

"I'm kinda bored." He admitted.

Of course, Dean rolled his eyes. Cas would never admit he wanted to spend time with him.

"I thought you had a paper due?" Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I do," Cas admitted, "but I'm gonna fail it."

Dean shook his head. "No you're not, stop saying that."

Cas rolled his eyes, "why are you always so sure things are gonna be okay?"

Dean smiled to himself, obviously Cas couldn't quite recall the Dean Winchester that believed life wasn't worth it and nothing was going to happen, the Dean before he'd had a tumour lifetimes ago, the Dean before he'd met Sam. But every now and then Cas would mention Sam, he couldn't remember him completely, and most of the stuff he knew was what Dean had told him.

But, according to Cas, he had this one recurring memory of Sam making him laugh in a hospital waiting room when Dean was having some sort of operation, the thought made Dean smile.

The only Dean Cas seemed to recall was the one who had faith in everything, it was the best he could hope for.

"Hope, Cas. 'Cause I have hope."

Cas laughed slightly. "Okay, I'm gonna go write the paper, see you."

"See you." Dean replied, sketching a little wave as Cas left. Part of him missed the little Cas that loved him to read stories to him, but Cas was growing up with no problems, it was all Dean had ever wanted for him.

Dean picked up a few shirts and opened his empty closet, he spied a load of junk at the back and rolled his eyes to himself, he leant down into his closet and hauled some of it out, ready to throw it in the bin.

After a moment, he came across two books pilled on top of each other, covered in dust.

Dean picked the books up and wiped the dust away with one hand, wiping his hand off on the end of his bed, and saw it was a book by Carver Edlund, he raised an eyebrow, he hadn't read a book by him in years.

Dean pried the books apart and froze.

Crushed against the cover of the second book was a daisy chain. It looked old and withered and Dean supposed the only reason it was still in one piece was because it had been between those two books.

Dean sank onto his bed, he'd forgotten about the daisy chain. He looked at it for a long moment before he reached out and picked it up carefully, the whole thing crumbled to dusk in his hand.

He remembered Sam making it for him, seeing the pair of them sat out in the sunshine, seeing Sam's face smiling at him in his minds eye and it hurt so much.

Dean thought back to when he could still feel Sam's presence around him all the time, the morning after he died, at his funeral and for a long time after that.

In the end, his Mom had been right. One day, he just couldn't feel Sam around him anymore, he was no longer there.

Whilst it had been a relief, it had also nearly broken him, it felt like Sam had died all over again and Dean was alone.

He'd felt so alone for such a long time he never thought he'd make it out.

But being able bask in his grief, being able to feel all the things that Sam's imagined presence had blocked out allowed Dean to reflect.

He remembered everything Sam had said to him the night he'd died and kept it close, always turning to it in times of need. It hurt like hell every time he thought about it but it shaped him into the person he was today.

The person who got off his ass and went to College, the person Sam wanted him to be.

It had taken Dean a long time to deal with Sam's death and it hurt everyday. Sam had changed the person Dean was and made him see things differently, he'd made Dean a better person and Dean was better for having known him, whilst he still wished everyday that Sam was living his life with him, Dean would never exchange all the pain he felt and how lonely he was for never having met Sammy at all. He changed everything in him then he was gone, but Sam had left a part of himself with Dean, the part that gave him hope and reason, and Dean knew deep inside himself that he would love Sam until the day he died.

Dean smiled sadly to himself, he guessed that one day he'd learn only to pull happiness from his memories of Sam, but he wasn't there yet, he didn't know. But there were some things he did know, Dean still knew exactly what Sam would say to him if he could see him hurting this way.

"I know, Sammy, don't worry. I'll be okay."

THE END


End file.
